


A Promise Kept

by C_Aureus



Series: Promises [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Light Horror, Pining, Post-Breath of the Wild, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Promises, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 78,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_Aureus/pseuds/C_Aureus
Summary: Link had made a promise, so very, very long ago.One he intends to fulfill.Atanycost.
Relationships: Link/Mipha (Legend of Zelda)
Series: Promises [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894438
Comments: 149
Kudos: 127





	1. Mipha's Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aviatordame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aviatordame/gifts).



> Hello everyone. This is my first published work, therefore any and all comments and criticisms are appreciated. I just ask that you keep it civil! Goodness knows that this work is probably going to be polarising, at the very best. Discussion is encouraged! Any questions you may have, feel free to ask.
> 
> Also, please don't hesitate to point out any typos or grammatical mistakes you notice.
> 
> This work is also dedicated to anyone and everyone that loves the Link/Mipha pairing.

###  Chapter 1: Mipha's Awakening 

Darkness. The entire world was darkness. Utterly consuming, not to mention oppressive, in its totality.

By definition, it could be classified as peaceful. However, a far more apt descriptor for this infinite void would be 'lonely'.

Suddenly, a warm golden light split the eternal landscape in half, growing more radiant as time progressed. The light was accompanied by a sonorous chime, akin to the noise made by running one's finger around the rim of a crystalline glass. The sudden influx of stimuli was quite overwhelming to the world's only occupant, considering the desolate state of the world prior to their arrival.

As the light grew steadily brighter, and the chimes louder, a muffled voice made itself known. At first, it was extremely difficult to interpret the voice's words, but with time, it became clearer. The first fully coherent sentence was a command:

_''Open your eyes...''_

It also served to let the listener infer that the mysterious speaker was female; the voice was far too soft, and high pitched, for it to belong to a man. The voice also seemed to be vaguely familiar. It seemed to whisper at the back of the listener's mind, speaking of time long since passed, and memories long since forgotten. It also spoke of warmth, and promises. Promises of a brighter future.

Then, the golden light that had invaded the darkness expanded, consuming the entire plane and bathing it in its warm glow.

The voice repeated its command twice more, coaxing the listener out of the deepest of slumbers. As the listener finally acquiesced to the command, more out of instinct, than conscious thought, they were greeted by the soft blue lights of the interior of the Shrine of Resurrection.

After a merciful minute to adjust, the voice returned once again.

 _''Wake up, Mipha.''_ it gently pleaded.

Mipha. The name seemed familiar. It resonated with the listener in a way that nothing else in their brief existence yet had. Perhaps it was their name? Yes, Mipha concluded, it surely must be. Her soul seemed to sing in agreement.

As Mipha's awareness grew, she realised that she was currently located in some strange bed. Equally strange blue liquid, the same shade as the relaxing lights illuminating the chamber, was draining away around her into the surface that she was lying on. Mipha's eyes slowly scanned the room, before she decided to heed the strange voice's command and get up. As she slowly crawled out of her recent resting place, she absently noticed that she was not wearing any garments, yet such knowledge didn't seem to bother her as much as one might expect it to. 

However, Mipha could not bring herself to worry too much about the comparatively trivial matter of her current state of undress, as her thoughts were far more occupied with her profound confusion and curiosity.

Waking up alone in a sealed chamber, to an ethereal voice, with no memories nor possessions was probably not supposed to be a normal occurrence in most people's lives.

Mipha dropped onto the stone floor of the chamber. The room itself was relatively ambient and comfortable, but the cream coloured stone was chillingly cold beneath her webbed toes. The shock of it nearly sent Mipha into a sensory overload, for it was by far the most intense sensation she had yet to experience. Her legs were also quite unsteady, likely from a long period of inactivity, causing Mipha to cling to the strange bed she had just left in order to maintain her balance. She then took this moment to give the room she currently occupied a more thorough visual investigation.

Despite the illumination of the lights Mipha had previously noticed, the room was still very dark. Her eyes took a short moment to adjust to the lack of light, as she scanned the intricate patterns adorning the walls and floor of the chamber. They seemed to hold no obvious significance, and they were not arranged in any discernable or familiar pattern. Perhaps they were meant to be purely decorative? Either that, or they may serve a purpose not immediately apparent. 

Mipha digressed. Such questions were not so immediately pressing. Finally recovering her balance, Mipha took a few uncertain steps forward, towards a pedestal which seemed to be the only other object of note in the room.

As she examined the strange pedestal, to her shock, its surface began moving autonomously. When the movement ceased, a slab of stone was protruding from it. Mipha was internally debating whether to reach forwards and seize the offered slab when the voice returned once again.

_''That is a **Sheikah Slate**. Take it.''_

Doing as instructed, Mipha grabbed the Slate, and turned it over in her hands, all while pondering the nature of the 'Sheikah'. Was the Sheikah a person? Were they the one responsible for her presence here? She wondered if the Slate would provide her with any of these answers.

The Slate seemed to be made of the same stone as the floor and, as such, it carried the same coolness when touched. She noticed that on the other side, there appeared to be a black screen. Mipha gently moved a claw towards the surface and held it against the screen gingerly, as if afraid of scratching the material. 

When the screen awoke with a short chime, Mipha was so startled that she'd recoiled as if scalded, and almost dropped it. The screen was illuminated by a blue emblem that vaguely resembled a stylised eye. Despite the foreign nature of the device, she could not help but feel that it, and the pattern, were slightly familiar, as if edging just beyond her memories not unlike a word hidden on the tip of one's tongue. Mipha was so engrossed by the Slate that she would have missed the part of the wall covering what looked like a doorway recede, were it not for the unsettling sound of grinding stone accompanying it; the churning noise making her want to grit her teeth.

With the doorway now unblocked, the room now opened out into a second chamber, filled with empty chests and rotted wooden crates and barrels. This room also ended in a dead end, but Mipha noticed another section of wall similar to the doorway she had just traversed. She assumed that this too must open up like the previous one had done. Striding through the small room on legs that were once again becoming accustomed to walking, she noticed another pedestal near to the doorway, similar to the one that had bestowed the Sheikah Slate upon her. It was glowing a warm orange, and as she approached it cautiously, the voice made itself heard once more.

 _''Hold the Sheikah Slate up to the pedestal.''_ it began, _''That will show you the way.''_

Mipha took a moment to contemplate the origins of this disembodied voice; it was obvious that there was no other being currently occupying the chamber she was in, which meant that the very existence of this voice was a great mystery. Although, she mused inwardly, her entire existence was a great mystery at the moment. For every question she raised, ten more would take its place after realising she lacked any memories or information to answer the original question.

Mipha decided that it would be easier to just follow the voice's commands, for it certainly seemed to be benevolent, and hope that it could direct her to answers. Interestingly, she did not feel too panicked in the realisation that she possessed no memories prior to her awakening. She attributed this seeming nonchalance to the fact that curiosity was currently far more prevalent in her mind, but she assumed it was likely that the unsettling reality of her situation had simply yet to be fully acknowledged.

As Mipha placed the Slate on the pedestal, the orange lights adorning it turned blue and a different voice rang out into the cavernous chamber.

_''Authenticating... Sheikah Slate confirmed.''_

This voice was far more monotonous than the previous one. Mipha could hardly repress a shiver from the cold, robotic tone of the new voice. She decided that she much preferred the warmth and emotion that was present in the first one; it served as to calm her with the certainty that despite her current confusion, all the answers she sought, as well as answers to questions she did not yet have, would soon be revealed to her.

Before Mipha could reflect too much on the nature of the synthesised voice of the Slate, the door blocking further progress began to recede. As the door disassembled itself and sank into the surrounding doorway, golden rays of light, reminiscent of the first light Mipha had seen before awakening, spilled into the murky shrine. The intensity of the light was much greater than the soft glow of the Sheikah technology, and Mipha was forced to shield her eyes as they adjusted once again.

Finally faced with an egress, Mipha stood in the doorway, relishing in the fresh air that came flooding into the shrine to displace the stale, stagnant air within it. The first voice then returned for the final time, to offer Mipha one last parting message:

_''Mipha... for so long, you have been lost to us. We feared you would be lost forever. But now, you are returned. Come back to Hyrule, to us, once again. Now go...''_

With that final command, the voice vanished, and so too did the comforting presence associated with it. For the first time since waking up, Mipha realised she was alone, without a guide. Refusing to allow her distress to control her, Mipha resolved to seek out the source of the mysterious voice, for it evidently knew her, and would obviously be able to provide her with answers. Hopefully, it could answer the most pressing questions that were occupying her clouded mind. 

Mipha knew that there was an emotion in that voice that she couldn't place; it sounded so hopeful, yet so poignant at the same time. Mipha also resolved to find the source of those emotions, and understand the reasons behind them. Curiously, she realised that she felt a great empathy for the obvious sadness she had detected, and would try her best to absolve the speaker from the guilt tainting her words. She wondered if such empathy was indicative of her character as a whole, or if it only applied to the odd circumstances surrounding her currently.

Faced with no other options, Mipha began to ascend the newly revealed staircase, only to come face to face with a rocky outcrop that was taller than she was by a significant margin. Instinctively, Mipha knew that she would not be able to climb such a wall easily. Due to the shape of her hands, she would find it very difficult to find any purchase in the smooth wall. The fins covering her body and her elongated appendages seemed far more adept to swimming rather than climbing.

Fortunately, a large crate was conveniently pressed up against said wall, which would make the task of ascending it much easier. Mipha scrambled up on top of the crate, then used the crate to boost herself up and pull herself over the top of the wall. She wondered if someone had deliberately placed the crate there, knowing that the Shrine's only occupant would struggle with the wall, in order to assist their escape. This only raised more questions that Mipha had no way of yet answering, so she decided to instead focus on what was in front of her: Now, she was only faced with a small set of shallow stairs before she could exit the cave.

Bounding up the final steps with confidence her legs did not have only a few short minutes previously, Mipha exited from the shrine, and was faced with the land of Hyrule for the first time in over a century.

She walked forwards to the edge of a cliff, and took a moment to simply absorb the scenery around her. She could see for miles in front of her. Tall mountains dotted the landscape, as did vast, grassy plains. The terrain directly in front of her was dominated by a great castle, whose spires and towers reached high over the surrounding land. Mipha couldn't help but marvel at the majesty of the structure; even from here, its magnificence was apparent. It was a structure that commanded the awe and respect of all who laid eyes on it; a true testament to not only the skill of the stonemasons who carved it, but also a statement of power from its inhabitants. She could hardly wait to view it up close, and possibly even roam its gilded hallways.

Mipha's imagination ran wild with assumptions of the castle's interior: from damp, dark dungeons to great mess halls to an expansive library and bedrooms fit for royalty. Mipha seemed to focus on that last thought, as if the idea of living luxuriously seemed slightly familiar and even... _expected_ to her. Perhaps such an assumption was another clue to her identity? After a minute's contemplation, she decided to file away those thoughts for later and instead focus on more pressing issues. Namely, her location, her identity (or lack thereof), and her immediate survival. 

Perhaps not necessarily in that order.

Mipha knew that panic would not only be unbefitting her character (how she knew this, she was not sure, but projecting an aura of calmness came naturally), but also would be extremely counterproductive in her pursuit of answers, and her survival.

As she swept her gaze around herself, a great stone cathedral to her right caught her eye, but her focus was immediately drawn to a lone figure stood near a rocky overhang, and the blazing campfire stuttering beneath it. The figure seemed to have noticed her, as they appeared to be staring intensely in her direction. However, Mipha could not tell for certain if they acknowledged her, for they wore a heavy cloak and hood that obscured most of their features, leaving Mipha with only a vague outline to determine their properties.

Mipha realised that the only path she could take would lead her towards this figure, so she decided to approach them slowly. They did not appear to be hostile, and they had clearly taken an interest in her. Perhaps this strange figure would be able to answer some of the more burning questions she had?  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

A lone figure sat tending his fire. He knew that Mipha would awaken within the hour, and could therefore expect to see her emerge from the Shrine of Resurrection not long after. He could barely contain his excitement at seeing her again, as he tried desperately to maintain a modicum of patience. 

He had already decided to take an indirect approach to the subject of his identity, his relationship with her and knowledge of her life that she surely lacked and sorely desired. He took a moment to appreciate the way Rhoam had done so for him, upon his rebirth. Rhoam had known that immediately dumping all of the information he needed to complete his task upon his awakening would have certainly caused... serious negative repercussions. 

He would certainly not have been able to cope with such knowledge in such a fragile state. Therefore, he would attempt to gradually ease her into familiar situations that would hopefully spark memories, not unlike how he had recovered his own, and would only reveal his identity to her when he knew she would be able to truly process the revelations that would come with it. 

Unfortunately, he knew that this would require some tact, which was famously not his strongest virtue.

But for her, he was willing to compromise. Willing to do _anything_ to ensure her swift, uncomplicated recovery and continued safety. 

He grimaced. The weight of his failure ran freshly through his mind. He had not been there when she had needed him most, and because of that she had been lost to him, and had suffered at the hands of the Calamity for over a hundred years. Despite the fact he knew her fate was of no direct fault of his own, it was of no consolation to him, and the guilt he harboured for failing to protect her as she had protected him had haunted him since his memories of her had returned. He vowed silently that for as long as he drew breath, he would not let any further harm befall her. Perhaps in doing so, he may eventually begin to forgive himself for his numerous failures and regrets.

He felt, more than heard, when the main door to the shrine opened and steeled himself, yet all the preparation in the world could not prepare him for the sight of his dearest friend once again whole, and in her own flesh. She was just as vibrant, as illustrious as she appeared in his memories. He was immediately thankful for the hood obscuring his face, for he was quite sure his tearful expression of love and longing would not be an appropriate way to reintroduce himself.

After a long, _long_ moment of staring, he turned back to his fire and girded himself for what would surely be a greater test of his strength and will than anything the shrines, the ancient Sheikah or even Ganon itself could throw at him.

Still, he managed to console himself with the knowledge that even if he were to catastrophically screw this up, _Mipha was back!_ The culmination of years of desperate endeavours, searching for a way to be reunited with her had finally paid off, and he would be damned if he let this opportunity go to waste. He had clawed back what had been so unfairly taken from him, and he was not going to give it up again. 

He knew he would do anything to ensure her continued safety and happiness for as long as he lived, for there was no one more deserving of it than her. Even if they could never have what they had both desired so desperately in a previous life, he would take solace in the fact that, _if nothing else_ , he would finally fulfil the promise he had made on Vah Ruta, over one hundred years prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning to everyone:
> 
> This work will not be updated for some time. I will first be uploading a series of preludes in the same continuity as this story. Most of which are made to detail how exactly things progressed to the point they are at the beginning of A Promise Kept .
> 
> I will be honest. This was mostly written a long time ago, and, as such I feel a bit hesitant over its quality, but I felt it important to start with this piece, seeing as it was the first material I wrote for this story. That being said, there is (I think) a notable tonal discord between this piece and my more recent works. I just hope that it's still serviceable/acceptable. Perhaps one day, if I'm still unsatisfied with this piece, then I will re-write it completely. Or maybe not. I suppose it all depends on the feedback.
> 
> This chapter also exists as a promise (geddit? lol): A promise to myself, and a promise to all of the people reading this. A promise that no matter how angsty my prequels will get, this is where it is ending up. In all honesty, the existence of this is the only reason I was able to go through with writing the prequels. Hylia knows that I pretty much broke my heart with every single one of them. I'm afraid that I'm a real sucker for a happy ending, so that is what we're going to get. My apologies for anyone who wanted otherwise.


	2. A Bittersweet Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so, so very long being apart, two wayward souls are finally reunited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update time!
> 
> I was originally planning to only start uploading this story again after I had finished uploading all four currently written preludes.
> 
> After thinking on this a bit, I changed my mind, and decided to upload this before I begin with Prelude 3. It's quite a long one lol.
> 
> The next update for this story is planned to release after I finish Prelude 3, and before I start uploading Prelude 4. Due to the length of Prelude 3, however, this will be a while yet. My apologies.
> 
> Small note: I use strikethrough text thematically to indicate when a character has thought something that they do _not_ want to reflect upon.

### Chapter 2: A Bittersweet Reunion

### 

Mipha continued walking down the winding path towards where the strange figure had made camp. They had sat facing her, and she could feel their eyes tracking her every movement. She took little notice of the trees dotting the path, or of the mushrooms growing beneath them as she approached the small campfire with the stranger seated behind. Finally, as she closed to a reasonable speaking distance, the lone stranger spoke out to her, foregoing her need to initiate an awkward conversation.

''Well, hello there! It's not often one sees a Zora around these parts anymore.''

The voice seemed surprisingly affable, as his words were filled with a warmth and energy that calmed Mipha's nervous heart. She was thankful that this person was welcoming, and this filled her with the confidence to further approach him.

Now she was closer, she was able to more intensely scrutinise the figure. From his voice, it was clear that this was a male. His stocky figure, although slightly obscured by an enveloping cloak, confirmed this. She tried to gaze beneath the hood that hid the majority of his face. Underneath it, she was able to faintly make out a pair of clear blue eyes, and whispers of golden hair that stubbornly refused to stay beneath the hood. However, the majority of his face was hidden. Still, her silence in refraining from answering his hail seemed to prompt him to continue speaking.

''Please, please sit down.'' He said, while gesturing to his campfire. ''It has been far too long since I've had anyone to speak to.''

His words were tinged with what Mipha recognised as regret and loneliness. She complied with his request wordlessly, and took a seat opposite him. Her eyes were fixed above the campfire, where a small fish was slowly roasting.

Mipha realised that the stranger was still waiting for her to respond to him, but he seemed quite content to merely wait for her to answer him in her own time. Once more, Mipha was thankful for the easygoing and friendly nature of this person, but she knew that she would have to respond sooner or later. However, the stranger did not give her a chance to.

''Ah, I see you noticed my dinner.'' He chuckled, whilst pointing at the fish. ''Yes, I suppose it makes sense for a Zora to be interested in fish, seeing as how it's your primary source of food.''

That word again. Mipha did not know what a 'Zora' was, but he seemed to use the word to refer to her. Furthermore, the word seemed familiar in a similar way to her name. She assumed that 'Zora' must refer to _what_ she was. Still, she supposed, she could ask this man to confirm it.

With a voice that lacked the lighthearted conviction of her counterpart, Mipha finally spoke.

''Pardon my asking but... what exactly is a 'Zora'?'' She managed to put out in a voice close to a whisper. Hearing herself speak for the first time was somewhat jarring; her voice was weak, and slightly hoarse. It sounded not at all like she had imagined. None of the quiet calmness that she tried so hard to maintain was present. Instead, she sounded just as weak, and just as afraid as she feared she actually was.

The question seemed to startle the man, for his reaction was quite pronounced. He performed an almost comically over exaggerated double take at her question, before he answered her in his jolly voice.

''Why, my dear lady, _you_ are a Zora!'' Mipha smiled as her suspicion was confirmed.  
''Are you quite sure you're alright? I know that we are a long way from your people's home, yet I haven't heard of a Zora being unaware of their species before.''

His words were tinged with concern now, and that concern made Mipha's heart sink. She did not want to be the source of any discomfort to this man who had been nothing but friendly to her. Also, it served to further her suspicions that her circumstances were far from normal, not that she doubted that very much. She felt like she owed him an answer to his question, yet it took her a long moment to formulate a response.

''I am afraid I do not remember much of anything at the moment. I have only just awoken in a strange chamber without any memories to my name. As such, I am currently experiencing a great deal of confusion...'' 

In this sentence, her voice was better projected, and more secure. Perhaps it was not wise to immediately reveal such a weakness, however at least she was able to do so with a composure and confidence more befitting her station.

She tailed off from her monologue. She did not yet want to mention the disembodied voice that had spoken to her, or any of the other more fantastical events that had occurred, lest this kind man think she was insane. Although, she realised that such a declaration would probably not be entirely unwarranted, given the unusual nature of her experiences since waking. 

Still, credibility was an important facade for her to maintain, even if it was only that.

Her explanation only seemed to make the man more intrigued. He seemed genuinely concerned for her, and Mipha found this to be both reassuring and endearing.

''Oh... Well, I'm very sorry to hear that you have met with such a terrible fate. To be robbed of one's memories is surely an experience I wouldn't want to wish upon anyone.'' The stranger continued, concern lacing his words.  
''Do you at least happen to know your name?'' he offered, hopefully.

Mipha debated whether to answer, however she decided that nothing too bad could come from doing so. Coming to a decision quickly, she spoke with more confidence than before, which was reflected in the lack of waver of her voice.

''My name is Mipha.'' she declared, proudly. Her name, her identity, was one of the only things in her current possession. Therefore, she was going to treat it with the value and respect that it deserved. 

The man tried the word out himself, his mouth curling around the word as if tasting an exotic dish.

''Mipha...'' he said, slowly. ''Well, I must say, that is a lovely name!'' Mipha blushed at his comment.  
''It is a small mercy that you even have that, I suppose.'' he continued solemnly.

Mipha nodded in agreement, before further conversation was interrupted by the rumbling of her stomach. Mipha's face now flushed red for an entirely different reason, as she was filled with mortification for having this stranger be witness to such an embarrassing faux-pas.

The stranger, to his credit, only let out a rasping laugh. ''Oh how rude of me.'' He chuckled. ''You appear to be quite hungry. I should have realised when I noticed you almost salivating at my fish before.''

Mipha's mortification only grew, but she could not refute his words; she was indeed terribly hungry.

''Well then,'' the stranger continued, ''Allow me to offer you this fish, as a token of friendship.'' 

He produced a second fish, this one uncooked, from behind him.

''I believe Zora tend to prefer to consume fish uncooked. The ones I have met tell me that cooking ruins the flavour and texture to them.'' He held the fish out towards her with an expectant gaze in his eyes, as he grumbled to himself about the Zora's lack of appreciation for culinary works, to Mipha's bemusement.

Although Mipha _was_ very hungry, the idea of just taking from a stranger without any way to repay him seemed intuitively repulsive, so she made to kindly reject his offer.

''No, no, please. I insist.'' he responded. ''I managed to catch two earlier today, and this second one will surely spoil long before I can consume it myself, as I have no way of preserving them. If you do not eat it, then it will only go to waste.''

Mipha was swayed by his comment, though remained uneasy. Accepting food from a stranger was probably not the safest thing one could do. Mipha knew instinctively that she was in a very precarious, very vulnerable position; one that could be easily exploited. Yet this man managed to fill her with calmness and comfort; something buried deep within her _commanded_ her to trust him. Mipha decided to acknowledge her instincts, and noted their ferocity, for they had yet to be wrong, and she had nothing else to base her actions on.

''But, I have no way of paying you for it...'' she offered, weakly.

The man only chuckled again. ''My dear, if I required payment for it, I would not be living up here on my own! Please, take it. I have heard that it is Zora custom for people to share a meal when they first meet as a token of friendship.''

His incessant pleading and mention of her people's customs seemed to fully persuade her, and Mipha gratefully took the offered fish with a small 'Thank you.'. The man only smiled wider at her acceptance, and her heart leapt with joy at his approval. 

She bit into the fish, and only then did she realise how hungry she truly was, for she immediately abandoned all decorum, and tore into the fish as if it was the first meal she had eaten in over a century. Her sharp teeth ripped into the flesh, as great chunks of it disappeared into her mouth with every bite. Before the man even had a chance to comment on her voracious appetite, the fish had vanished in its entirety. That being said, he did not seem at all put off by her lack of manners.

''Well, if I'd known you were _that_ hungry, I'd have offered you mine as well.'' he chortled. 

Mipha, whilst content with the single fish, would certainly not have rejected the offer of another, even if it _was_ roasted. Her eyes glanced to the fire where the other fish had been roasting, yet it was nowhere to be seen. The man seemed occupied with trying to dislodge a bone that had become stuck between his teeth. 

Mipha's eyes widened. Her terrible breach of etiquette aside, she would have thought that her fish had vanished so quickly that he would barely have time to notice, let alone comment on its disappearance.

What could she say? She was _terribly_ famished, after all. Yet, incomprehensibly, he seemed to have somehow matched her in the rate at which he'd consumed his own. She couldn't help but be slightly impressed by this feat, even through her mild disgust at their shared lack of table manners.

With her hunger sated for the time being, Mipha returned to a comment the stranger had made in passing before.

''Forgive me, but you mentioned that you were living here alone. If I may ask, where exactly is 'here', and why are you living here on your own?'' She was just as inquisitive as she was cautious, attempting to balance her curiosity with a healthy respect of the man's privacy. 

She hoped that he would not take offence to her probing; his hospitality so far would lead her to assume that he wouldn't, however she could never be too sure. Goodness forbid she offend him; she knew she did not have the luxury of forming enemies at this moment.

''You certainly may ask!'' replied the man, with his unceasing happiness, utterly oblivious to her considerations.

''Well, to answer your first question, we are currently located on the Great Plateau. According to Legend, this is the birthplace of the entire Kingdom of Hyrule. That is the name of the land we inhabit.'' He added quickly, having anticipated her unasked question.

''As for your second question, well...'' The man seemed to pause, as if weighing his response.  
''I am a bit of a traveller. On my travels, I often sought adventure, and where better to explore than a Plateau that has been uninhabited for over a century? I climbed up here in order to visit and explore a land that has been reclaimed by the wild. Alas, after I had finished climbing, there was a heavy rainstorm, and the gentle path by which I ascended onto the Plateau collapsed. Now, I am stuck here.'' He finished, morosely.

''The Plateau rises above the surrounding plains by a significant amount; to jump from the top to the plains below well... No death would be more certain. Or more foolish.'' He added. 

Mipha did not miss the sardonic smirk he sent with that statement; he looked as if he was commenting on an inside joke. One that Mipha had no way of understanding herself, much to her frustration. Nevertheless, her heart went out to him.

''Oh.'' she said. ''I'm very sorry to hear that. How terrible it must be for you to be trapped here, and with no way to return to your loved ones.''

Mipha also did not miss the way he flinched, as if struck, before he caught himself.

''Ah well...'' he responded slowly. ''It's not all that bad. Truthfully, almost all of those I considered my loved ones have been taken from me.'' He explained, and Mipha was almost bowled over by the amount of _grief_ and _longing_ in his eyes. Before that instant, she would not have thought it possible to experience such overpowering sadness.  
''I don't think there are many left who would miss me.'' he finished, sadly.

It was at that moment Mipha realised that, despite her predicament of not having any memories, those not cursed with such an affliction could have their own problems that were just as terrible. To have lost everyone she cared about (even if she could not yet remember if there _were_ any she had cared about) was surely a terrible fate in itself.

''Still,'' the man continued, his jolliness restored. ''This Plateau has more than enough to sustain me, so it is not the worst fate to be trapped here. Plus, there are many sights upon this Plateau that are truly beautiful to behold, and many areas in need of exploring!''

Mipha could only marvel at how this man's mood had completely flipped twice in the course of a few sentences. She was impressed at his ability to shrug off a great personal tragedy and instead focus on the positives of the situation he found himself in. Perhaps she could also learn to do the same? Maybe he'd be willing to help her...

She didn't know why her subconscious seemed so very insistent on staying at his side. She reasoned that it was likely a survival instinct, to attempt to latch on to something for stability, whilst she yet had nothing.

Her thoughts were cut short though, by the man's mood shifting once again. His voice had turned very grave when he resumed speaking.

''However,'' he grimly intoned, ''This Plateau is far from a paradise. Even now, as Hyrule begins to recover, it is plagued by monsters and remnants of the Calamity that befell the Kingdom.''

Mipha seemed shocked by such a revelation; he had alluded to it before, as the abandoned and dilapidated Plateau could attest, but Mipha could not escape the conclusion that something terrible must have befallen this Kingdom for it to be in the state of disrepair in which this man implied. Furthermore, the mention of monsters unsettled Mipha. The dangers presented by such threats would surely be an impediment to her quest for answers.

Her concern must have shown on her face, because the man took notice of her discomfort.

''I didn't meant to worry you with such talk of monsters.'' He apologised.  
''After all, the threat to the Kingdom has been averted.'' He sounded somewhat pleased at that. Or perhaps, Mipha scrutinised him... was that... _pride?_

How curious.

Mipha intended to ask him for more details about this 'calamity' he had mentioned. Perhaps, she assumed, it might relate to her current circumstances. However, before she could interject, the man continued his rambling.

''I don't suppose you have any way of defending yourself from such threats, do you? Nor, given your amnesia, do you have anywhere or anyone to go to, regarding safety?'' He asked. 

The concern he had showed before when learning of her condition had returned, and a deep sympathy filled his shadowed eyes. Mipha was loath to expect any more from him, however she could not help but hope his generosity would continue, as she nodded her head mutely.

''Ah, well then.'' The man said. ''I could not stand here and merely watch as someone in need requires help.'' He slapped his hands down, as if committing himself to a promise. 

''I will offer to protect and help you then. It's hardly as if I have anything better to do!'' He smiled at her in that special way that disarmed her completely and wanted to make her trust everything that came from his mouth. Something from deep, deep within her almost forbade her from even considering the alternative. 

''Very well,'' he continued, ''I will see to it that you will be safe, and I will try to assist you in recovering your memories and identity!'' He declared, suddenly.

Mipha was truly shocked by this man's altruism, not to mention taken aback by how quickly, how _readily_ he had pledged himself to her. Did his charity truly know no bounds? However, as much as this was everything she could have ever _dreamed_ to be granted, she could not help but feel that she would be placing a huge burden on this man unfairly, and she decided to voice as much:

''As generous as your offer is, I cannot help but feel as if my presence would be of massive burden to you. As such, I do not wish to place such undue responsibility on you for circumstances beyond your control.'' Mipha responded.

The man stared at her for a long, _long_ moment. In fact, Mipha was not sure whether the man was staring at her, or _through_ her. He remained quiet for a worryingly long time, and his eyes seemed far away, as if looking at something only he could see. Finally, he responded in a much softer voice; one that lacked both the confidence and energy of the one he had used before:

''You remind me of a dear friend I lost.'' He began, more muted. Mipha was perplexed by his non-sequitur.

Mipha could see by the change in his posture that he was currently reliving a painful experience. He seemed to close in on himself, overcome as he was with grief from his past. Although she felt terrible for doing so, internally she felt a great jealousy towards this man for having memories to relive, no matter how painful. She immediately quashed that thought. It was unbecoming of her person and position to be so dismissive to his tragedy, especially since he was the one who offered her help so freely.

''She always told me to not blame myself for circumstances and events beyond my control.'' He continued.  
''She so often repeated that she did not blame me for the events leading to her death, that they were beyond my control, and therefore I should not blame myself for them. Her last words to me were reaffirming that statement.''

Mipha thought she saw a tear dripping from his inclined head, as he spent a moment in remembrance to his companion. She decided to voice her opinion.

''She sounds like the kind of person who would not want you to continue hurting because of her tragic circumstances.'' She offered, quietly, yet firmly.

The man looked up at her. She could see the wetness in his eyes, as tears threatened to fall, as he replied to her.

''No. No, she would not.'' He paused, for another moment.

''That is why I wish to help you'' he concluded, more quietly. '' _She_ would have wanted me to continue helping others, despite her fate, as she once helped me.'' Well, Mipha relaxed. There was his motive, at least.

''Moreover, the greatest problem Hyrule has faced in the last century has not been the Calamity, but rather the unwillingness of people to help those around them.'' Mipha watched as he tried to suppress a sneeze, or maybe a cough. The result was an ugly snort, which she tactfully ignored, for the sake of his dignity.

''Therefore, I will be willing to break this trend by offering my help to you, at the time when you need it the most.'' He recovered admirably, and finished his speech with a passionate glint in his eye.

Mipha could not help but be moved by his declaration. She could not claim to know how his friend had influenced him in such a way as to be so selfless, yet she inferred that this person must have meant a great deal to him. Despite feeling cruel for benefiting from his tragic loss, she was extremely thankful to this person for having such a profound impact on this man, so that he would be willing to help her when she was so lost. 

Perhaps some good could yet come from tragedy?

She immediately dismissed the thought as unbecoming and selfish; it would simply not do for her to act so glibly beneficial from another's suffering. Instead, she resolved herself to remain respectfully grateful.

''Seeing as you seem so determined to help me, it would be remarkably rude of me to reject your offer.'' Mipha sighed.

She was not overly happy about being forced to rely on the charity of a stranger, but she could not deny that this person would surely be of great help to her in her survival and search for answers. Furthermore, the fact that he seemed to have a way of sounding so sincere that it caused Mipha's chest to pang in sympathy, certainly helped to convince her of his sincerity. 

She knew that staying with him and accepting his help would be for her immense benefit. She was not too proud to accept assistance when she clearly needed it.

The man seemed ecstatic upon her acceptance, as he leapt to his feet. The movement caused his hood to slightly dislodge from his head, and Mipha caught the smallest glimpse of pointed, knife-like ears protruding from the sides of his skull, before he readjusted his cloak to hide his face again. Was he simply shy, or was there something he was attempting to hide from her?

That thought was unsettling. However, she supposed that she could afford him his privacy for now.

''I'm very happy you think so!'' he exclaimed. ''Now, in order to help you reclaim your memories, I'll need to know if there are any clues as to your identity, or to your past.'' Mipha was startled by just how quickly he'd gotten down to business, but she certainly did not begrudge his enthusiasm.

Mipha was too caught up in his excitement to comment on the expectant tone in his voice and gaze, before she had produced the only item in her possession, and her only lead to her previous life.

Upon seeing the Sheikah Slate, the man's jaw dropped. The shock was painfully evident in the way he reacted as soon as he saw it. Mipha's heart leapt, as she realised that if he recognised it, he would likely be able to provide more information about it, which could lead her to the answers that Mipha so desperately needed.

''I presume from your reaction that you recognise this object?'' she asked, hopefully. 

Her heart was thudding in anticipation as she awaited his response. Eventually, he seemed to regain himself, as he stared at Mipha in abject disbelief and wonder.

''How in Hylia's name did you get your hands on a Sheikah Slate?''

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Mipha followed him towards the lake where he had obtained the fish that became their meal, Link took a moment to reflect on his reintroduction to Mipha, and on his performance.

He was _beyond_ relieved that Mipha had accepted his offer of assistance, for that would make the task of watching over her infinitely easier than if she had rejected his help outright, although he had not expected her to do so. He also thought that he was doing a remarkable job of fulfilling the persona he had created for her.

He sent an immature and disparaging thought at Revali, for all of the times the Rito Champion had sniped at him for his apparent lack of emotions. He took a petty joy in proving his rival's comments as unfounded.

He quickly pushed away the regret he felt at Revali and the other Champions' absence and instead filled his heart with hope: Since he was successful in resurrecting Mipha, there was theoretically nothing preventing him from bringing them all back, in due time. Although, he mused, he may require different tactics to deal with each Champion's respective personality. 

For now, however, he had to keep his focus on the present, and the woman before him; he hated having to lie to Mipha, even if it was by omission, although he recognised that such measures would be necessary. He knew that he had to establish a character that Mipha could trust, and would listen to, if he was to guide her back to herself. 

The reason for his deception was twofold: Firstly, as he'd realised early, he did not want to overwhelm her with too much information too quickly. Nayru knew that her current state was extremely fragile, and Link would abhor causing her further suffering by being too rash.

Secondly, if he'd mentioned that he had known her, as she was, then...

She would demand that he tell her of her past. Link really wouldn't have any right to refuse, but, more crucially, knew that he would not be able to resist her pleas.

And, quite simply, Link knew that Mipha was _not yet ready_ to learn about her past. If such knowledge was to trigger some of her more traumatic memories then...

Link shuddered. Even in spite of how desperate he had once been to uncover everything he had lost, there were some things that he dearly wished that he had never remembered at all. He would allow Mipha comfort in her ignorance for as long as they could afford it.

He knew that any attempt to force Mipha to rediscover herself prematurely would end poorly. Instead, he could only guide her, help her on her own path to self-discovery. As much as he wanted so desperately to have _his_ Mipha back, he was aware from his own life that death and amnesia irrevocably changed a person. He could only pray that this Mipha would still feel the same way about him, although he accepted there was no guarantee of this.

But, he knew... Even if Mipha did not feel the same way, did not love him in the way she had once...

As much as it would break his heart, he knew that he could live with that. He _could._

After all... _this wasn't about him._ At least, not solely.

He hoped that, upon regaining her memories, she'd forgive his deception. 

Although, knowing her, he needn't worry. She was an extremely forgiving person by nature, and that forgiveness would certainly extend to him, when she heard his rational explanations... Probably. At least, he hoped so.

~~She had forgiven him for far worse, after all.~~

Amused, he reflected on the facade he had created for himself; it was actually rather reminiscent of his behaviour when he and Mipha had first met, when he was but four years old. The boisterous attitude and confidence he was trying to project was far more in line with his young self's personality, as opposed to the Silent Knight he had become in the lead up to the Calamity. He could appreciate the irony of reintroducing himself in a similar manner.

Although, he knew that despite this, he would have to be careful with himself. Mipha, although lacking her memories, had already proven herself to be as shrewd as she had ever been. He knew that he needed to walk a fine line between being expressive, but not to the point where it seemed forced. He had noticed no less then two incidents where his response may have seemed suspicious to a focussed observer; he only hoped that Mipha's amnesia would allow him some small leeway in making his reactions _too_ obvious, or his observations and comments _too_ uncanny.

If Mipha was led to believe that he was deceiving her, then any trust he had built up could be shattered. Therefore, he had to convince her that he was acting in her best interests, so that even if she suspected him of knowing more than he was letting on, she would still trust him, trust that he was acting to her benefit.

However, he pondered, there would be some reactions that he would not have to fake. When he had spoken of the dear friend he had lost, it did not take a genius to infer that he could only be referring to Mipha herself. Her response to his story was objective proof that, at heart, her amnesia had not changed her core personality, just as it had not changed his. The realisation had brought with it a wave of relief.

In fact, her response, the familiarity of it, had almost led to him completely breaking character; it had taken an immeasurable amount of self control to rein in his emotions and not collapse in front of her entirely. Seeing Mipha again, but knowing that she did not remember him, was a pain that burned deeper than a Guardian's laser; something he was regrettably _intimately_ familiar with, as a particular scar on his torso could attest to.

He resolutely ignored the itching that flared up around the wound.

It was _torturous_ to stand so near to her, yet behave as if she did not mean more to him than the Earth itself. Each moment in her presence, he was nearly consumed by the urge to lay one hundred years' worth of affection and _love_ upon her and fall, sobbing, into her warm, familiar embrace. Yet, he knew that he could not do so in good conscience whilst she was in such a delicate state. He could not and _would not_ take advantage of her in such a way. 

He wondered if Mipha had felt similar agony during their short lived reunion in the bowels of Vah Ruta, after he had liberated her spirit from Waterblight's torment. He did not wish to dwell on the depression and pain that she must have surely once felt, that was mirrored in himself now. Although, he did wonder how she had coped with it.

Perhaps she hadn't. Maybe, ~~if~~ _when_ she remembered, he could ask her.

However, despite the pain, merely basking in the presence of the Zora Princess brought him immeasurable joy. This dichotomy left Link feeling rather conflicted. The bittersweet nature of her presence was confusing, yet reassuring. Depressing, yet jubilant. He hoped with all his heart that Mipha would begin regaining her memories sooner rather than later, for he was finding it extremely difficult to control his anticipation for the moment she looked at him with recognition in her eyes, the same way she did in his dearest memories.

He thought back to the 'Zora custom' he had invented. Truthfully, he knew of no such ritual, but seeing as it helped to convince her to take the fish, he supposed that nothing bad had come of it. He would have to be careful in abusing such underhanded methods in the future, even for her own good. The trust she was placing in him was not to be taken lightly. 

It also could lead to complications upon her reintroduction to Zora society, should she not recall the _actual_ behaviours of her people. He would not want to be the source of embarrassment for her toward her peers and subjects. He supposed that she'd already put up with far too much of that when he was young.

As they reached the waters, he encouraged Mipha to go for a swim. Surely being in her preferred habitat would do her good, he reasoned. 

Link thought on the promise he made, following her showing him the Slate. He tried not to cringe when he remembered his reaction. He needed to appear to be shocked, yes, be he couldn't help but feel he had overdone it a bit. Seeing as _he himself_ had been the one to place the Slate in the Shrine, his reaction had to be entirely fabricated, and he felt that it showed. Still, Mipha did not seem to pick up on that, much to his relief. He once again thanked the hood covering his face. It was of incredible help in concealing his true emotions.

He had promised her that after a visit to the waters (and perhaps another small snack) he would take her to his temporary residence to tell her about the Slate. Obviously, he wouldn't divulge _everything_ he knew, but he would reveal enough to hopefully entice her enough to begin the next step of his plan. 

Link took a moment to relax on the bank, as he reviewed his plan again. He felt confidence in the surety that, after all he had been through, everything was finally shaping up to work out for their benefit, which contented him as he drifted off into a shallow daydream. 

Now that Mipha was alive again, his task had been completed, and his final goal, something they had both desired with all of their hearts, lay in sight.

He looked forward to the day Mipha remembered him with great apprehension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Link. He's trying his best.
> 
> As always, feedback is hugely appreciated.
> 
> I would hugely appreciate being able to debate about my portrayals of the characters, and whether or not you enjoy them.
> 
> See you in a couple of days. ;)


	3. Faint Recollections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mipha rediscovers the first hints of her memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Sorry that this is a tad overdue.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

### Chapter 3: Faint Recollections

### 

Upon reaching the small lake, Mipha immediately dived off of the precipice with a grace and fluidity that seemed embedded into her muscle memory, if not her conscious ones. She arced through the air, and pierced the surface of the water with nary a splash to indicate her point of entry. She had known from the moment she had awakened that water was her preferred habitat, so she had agreed most vehemently when her companion had suggested she immerse herself within the nearest body of water as soon as was physically possible, much to his amusement. 

Link, for his part, was content to not join her, and simply let her rediscover her affinity for water by herself. After all, he knew that, in the water, his presence would only ever _slow her down..._

Instead of watching her swim, perhaps fuelled by his sudden spike of long-festered grief, he directed his gaze to the ruins of the Temple of Time across the water. He shuddered, and sent the spot where he knew Hylia's statue to reside a withering glare. Though he could not see the effigy, merely knowing its proximity left him battling a rising ire.

Instead of dwelling on that familiar anger, he resolved to keep his mind occupied with more pleasant thoughts, especially in Mipha's company, lest he slip back into the depression, angst and grief that had nearly consumed him in the aftermath of Ganon's defeat, and contaminate her with his own bitterness.

He thought back, briefly, to the long, lonely years since he cleansed Hyrule of its scourge and remembered how despondent and bitter he had become in that time. Although, now Mipha was once again with him, he reasoned that he had no need to feel such a way again. He had defied fate, and the goddesses, and even death itself to claim back what had been ripped away from him so unfairly, and _Hylia damn it,_ he was going to make every moment that he had stolen back count.

This time, there would be no wasted opportunities, no half measures...

And, hopefully, when all was said and done, no regrets. 

Link then moved his gaze back to the still waters of the lake; Mipha had yet to resurface since her initial dive, but there was no reason for his concern. There was nothing more deadly than a Zora in the water, especially one as skilled as she. Mipha was likely reacquainting herself with the use of her gills and fins; items that would be of little practical use on land, but indispensable for swimming, and, unfortunately, an area where he would be of very little practical help to her.

Link could only marvel at the way the Zora had such mastery over their element. They were slightly encumbered on land, compared to the land-borne races, as they did suffer from slight disadvantages in lung capacity (though skilful use of their gills could accommodate for this) and coordination as one would expect, compared to races evolved to live solely with land underfoot. Link had discovered this early as a child, running and playing with his age-mates amongst the Domain. It had once been a source of great frustration to him, that none of the others could keep up with him over the craggy terrain of Zorana.

But in the waters, the Zora truly came into their own. Just like the Rito had undisputed command of the skies, so too did the Zora have complete dominion over the rivers, lakes and oceans around Hyrule. They could seemingly fly through water at speeds approaching a horse's gallop, and completely outmatched any potential prey or competitors in versatility and dexterity. They were even blessed by the goddesses themselves with the gift to swim in any water, no matter the treachery of the current, or the speed of the flow; this ability extended to allow the Zora to perform the seemingly impossible feat of scaling waterfalls - an ability that was shared by Link whenever he donned the Zora Armour that had been intended as Mipha's engagement gift to him. 

Being able to swim with even a shadow of the grace of the Zora would never cease to bring Link joy, and this was reflected in how much time he spent in the waterways of Hyrule, much to the amusement of Prince Sidon, and the members of the Bazz Brigade, with whom Link had become reacquainted. 

Even the Zora's ancient rivals, the Lizalfos, could not hope to match them in their own craft, so they had always been forced to engage either on land, or only if they were at a significant numerical or tactical advantage in the water, much to their eternal fury and envy. 

Though the _Zora's Domain_ might only refer to the specific site of their home, nestled between the mountains of Lanayru, Link had long been of the opinion that _all_ waterways in Hyrule were solely under their dominion.

With a ripple of water announcing her arrival, Mipha finally broke the surface of the lake. She had apparently managed to successfully snag a Hyrule Bass without much difficulty, which she held triumphantly in her curved claws. Link was far too busy, engrossed with fascination and admiration for the Zora's aquatic abilities, to take too much notice of Mipha's prize. At least, that is, until she leapt from the lake back onto the precipice she had leapt from, several metres above the water's surface, and presented it to him. 

Even then, far more of his attention was spent on Mipha's marvellous feat; that she had already rediscovered the significant amount of skill necessary to perform such a task was relieving in itself, and Link found himself just as enamoured with her displays of aquatic prowess as he had been as a child.

Seemingly short for words, Mipha quietly held out the fish she had caught, hoping the kind man would accept her gift. Finally catching on to her meaning, he glanced at her curiously, before snapping himself out of his stupor, and hesitantly accepting her offer.

''Y'know,'' he began with a chuckle, ''When I said you could catch another fish, I meant that you should catch one for _yourself._ ''

Mipha was seemingly embarrassed by this, as a red flush returned to her pale face, before she stuttered out her response.

''Actually... I- I wanted to demonstrate my gratitude for your hospitality and generosity by repaying your most indulgent gift...'' She tailed off at the end of the sentence, before continuing in a much smaller voice:  
''And, besides, I had already caught and consumed more fish for myself.''

Link's eyes crinkled underneath his hood in amusement. Internally, he found himself endeared by her attempt of repayment, of proving to him that she could pull her own weight. 

''Well, I would say I'm impressed by your ability to catch fish. Indeed, you managed to catch two fish in far less time than I ever could! Although, it would be remiss of me to underestimate a Zora in the water, I suppose.'' Link laughed.

In an even smaller voice that Link would have missed if not for his attention and sharp Hylian ears, Mipha replied.  
'' _Three_ fish...'' she corrected, timidly.

She was probably not expecting Link to hear her, as she was quite startled by him breaking out into a loud, happy laugh. Fortunately, he did not address her comment. Mipha was thankful for this, for she was not certain of exactly how much more mortified she could yet become, but she certainly had no desire to find out. 

She seemed to have made an unfortunate habit of embarrassing herself in front of this stranger, and, although he was happy to laugh it off, she could not help but simultaneously dislike and be intrigued by the way this man seemed to be able to put her so at ease, as to constantly slip up and humiliate herself. Her decorum _demanded_ she present herself with nothing less than the utmost propriety, so to commit such blunders, especially on such a regular basis, brought her a significant amount of shame. 

''My my, you must have been absolutely famished!'' Link wheezed. ''Well, nevertheless, I accept your gracious offer.'' He winked cheekily at her, and Mipha's blush returned with a vengeance. Her cheeks were now closer in colour to her tail fin, rather than the ivory of her skin, much to her endearment to Link.  
''Anyway, now you've had your soak, I think it would be best if we made our way to where I currently live, before night falls. After all, these plains can become quite... _unruly_ after dark.''

Mipha agreed quickly. Although spending time in the water had been a godsend to her, she was quite attracted to the promise of a shelter from the elements, especially considering her companion's numerous warnings of monsters. 

To add to that, the day was progressing. Mipha surmised that she must have awoken in the late afternoon. Since then, she had spent several hours talking, walking, swimming and eating, which was reflected in the Sun's descent towards the western mountains. Night would be upon the Plateau soon, and she intended to be safe and sheltered from the wilderness before then.

Despite her eagerness to retire for the day, her curiosity had been piqued by numerous things she had seen during her time in the water. Notably, her interest had been occupied by the great cathedral that was now looming over them. She had felt a great desire to investigate the building, and she was disappointed to be called away from it by her acquaintance. Still, she knew that she would have plenty of time for exploration and investigation in the near future, so she consoled herself with that knowledge as she followed the man towards his residence.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Link led Mipha southwards, towards the small hut that Rhoam had used as his home, whilst he was masquerading as the Old Man. He did not know if the late monarch had built it himself, or if he had merely appropriated it for his own use, but he supposed that such semantics did not matter, seeing as no one else was using it.

The hut, whilst modest, contained everything that one would reasonably need to survive, and some minor comforts, although he did miss the luxuries offered by more elaborate housing. Still, it would be more than fit to serve the purpose Link had intended for it, so he knew he shouldn't complain.

For Mipha, however, the lack of luxuries would be woefully unbefitting her station as Princess and Zora Champion. Not that it would matter much, given her amnesia, Link thought. However, memories returned to Link since the Calamity's fall had indicated that Mipha was no stranger to sleeping rough, and could easily thrive with a lack of amenities as the situation required. She had proved as much in the many outings they had enjoyed together when he was younger, and his life was simpler.

He smiled at the faint memory of nights spent underneath the starry skies of Upland Zorana, waiting for even a glimpse of the mythical Naydra, with the giddy anticipation and optimism of innocent youth...

How he missed those days. How he wished they had never ended.

Link had been closely observing Mipha since she had left the Shrine of Resurrection. He had kept his watchful eyes on her every move, as if he was afraid she would vanish if he looked away. However, once he had gained her trust, he had become more relaxed in leaving her to her own devices, for he was confident that she would not wander off on her own, given her current circumstances. 

Nevertheless, he still spent much of his time simply watching her, and basking in her presence. He tried to convince himself that it was mostly out of concern and worry for her, yet he knew that he wasn't fooling anyone with such an obvious platitude. 

He at least hoped she didn't find his borderline _voyeuristic_ staring unwanted or uncomfortable. If she did, she had yet to comment, but Link knew that would probably be out of politeness. In fact, even _he_ agreed that his behaviour was somewhat questionable, when described in such a manner. So, he tried to bury his guilt underneath the slightly more acceptable explanation that he was observing her to attempt to discern any problems or issues she was experiencing upon resurrection. 

Yes, that was far less morally suspect, he thought with relief. 

Still, he had taken to the latest of his self-appointed tasks as Mipha's guardian with the vigour and dedication reminiscent of his time as Princess Zelda's appointed knight. Among his observations, he noticed that Mipha was already displaying a remarkable comfort and confidence on land. 

As was common knowledge, the Zora mostly preferred aquatic environments, and most strove to be in, or around, water for the vast majority of their time. The Princess, however, had always been an exception. She had such a mastery of her own body that Link was sure that her composure and grace would survive, even if she was stranded in the Gerudo desert. With this control, Mipha had attained an affinity for movement and combat on solid ground that was unmatched by any other Zora, and even exceeded the vast majority of Hylians, as Link's _many_ unfavourable sparring sessions with her could vouch for.

After all, she had been unmatched in spear-play in all of Hyrule and, furthermore, everything Link knew about fighting with a spear had been taught to him by Mipha herself. It was one of the many things that made the Zora Champion remarkable, and a more than worthy choice for her station. 

Link sneaked another glance at Mipha, who was following him very closely. She seemed hesitant to leave Link's side and became agitated when separated from him by anything more than touching distance. Link was not overly concerned by her close proximity; in all likeliness, she was using his presence as an anchor in an unfamiliar and possibly hostile world. Having gone through the exact same experience, Link could certainly empathise with her feelings, and was happy to act as an emotional bulwark for her. 

He remembered how vulnerable he had been upon his own awakening and, lacking anyone to latch onto for support except the elusive Old Man, how anxious he had always felt. Until he managed to get his feet underneath him, he'd spent a great deal of time jumping at every shadow, and jumping much higher when said shadow belonged to a living creature.

He was thankful that no one alive had been witness to his first encounter with a Stone Talus, upon the Plateau. It was _not_ one of his finer moments. As amusing as such an encounter could be in retrospect, the fear, panic, and danger of such an encounter to one in the state Link had once been in, and Mipha now found herself, was decidedly _not_ worth the trouble. If he could at all help it, Mipha would never have to go through a similar experience, at least until she was mentally and physically prepared for it.

He was hoping that they could make it to the hut without any incidents or encounters with the _other_ inhabitants of the Plateau, however he realised that given his particular track record, it would be foolish to expect fate to be so kind. Unfortunately, before they could reach the sparse trees that would conceal their presence from any roaming Bokoblins, they were confronted with two of the monsters directly in their path, much to Link's frustration, but not to his surprise.

In the lead up to Mipha's awakening, Link had done his absolute best to completely and utterly _rid_ the Plateau of _any_ hostile presence that could have threatened Mipha. He'd destroyed the oft-resurrected Talus, he'd checked _every single_ wrecked Guardian for any signs of functionality, and he'd spent _weeks_ systematically _purging_ every single monster camp he came across, and torching the remains with a barely concealed pyromania.

Sadly, as he'd once lamented to Zelda, one man, no matter how remarkable, was not sufficient for such a monumental task.

The Great Plateau was actually one of the tamest areas in all of Hyrule, post Ganon's resurrection. Link attributed this fact to the great walls that elevated the Plateau over the surrounding plains, which had done a remarkable job of keeping the worst of Ganon's spawn from invading it. Of course, the formidable walls had _not_ prevented a small battalion of Guardians from attacking the Plateau, and wrecking the Temple of Time, however a hundred years of exposure and damage had rendered most of them immobile or deactivated.

The ones that did not fall to the inexorable march of time _instead_ fell to a very angry, resurrected Hylian, upon his subsequent returns to the Plateau. Link justified his rampage against the stricken machines as vengeance for not only his demise, but for the _terror_ they had wrought on him, upon his awakening.

He still shuddered when he recalled his first encounter with one of the infected automatons after he first awoke on these plains. Hiding in the ruins of the Eastern Abbey, one particular Guardian was still partly operational. After stumbling across it in the dead of night and _barely_ escaping with his life, Link had been forced to beg the spirit of His Majesty, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule, for a replacement set of underwear.

Preferably ones without piss stains.

Of course, with Ganon vanquished, his taint had been removed from the rogue machines, however Link understandably held quite the grudge against them, and avoided them wherever possible out of principle. Furthermore, even if the likelihood of a functional and hostile Guardian still left on the Plateau was almost certainly zero, he would still do all he could to prevent Mipha from ever facing such a terrifying scenario, and from such an indignity as he had faced. Although, he presumed that, even as lost as she currently was, such an act would still be _far_ beneath her.

He realised that there was likely a significant amount of trauma he could attribute to those cursed constructs, however he hadn't been able to afford the time to work through it during his quest, and, after that, it had simply fallen to the wayside.

But, despite the fact that the worst of Ganon's monsters had never been present on the Plateau, there had been a significant presence of Bokoblins. Unfortunately, despite Link's best efforts, remnants of that infestation still remained, as evidenced by the encounter before them.

Link, however, was nothing if not prepared to correct such an oversight. With only a silent nod, he indicated for Mipha to stay put, much to her displeasure, as he unsheathed his sword and approached the demon-spawn.

Mipha watched as her companion approached the monsters with seemingly no concern whatsoever. He held his sword confidently in his right hand, and he strolled into clear view of the Bokoblins, without a hint of fear. She was concerned for her newfound acquaintance, however with the way he carried himself, she supposed that he must have a great deal of confidence in his ability to destroy such petty threats. 

She could only hope that such confidence was not unfounded. For _both_ of their sakes.

Bokoblins were many things: Territorial, tribal and vicious, but, most importantly, _stupid._ Despite the physical threat one could possess, and the basic tactics that a group of them could employ, you would be hard pressed to find a child that was incapable of outwitting them. In spite of this, the strength they had by nature of Ganon's foul curses could make them dangerous to an unarmed and inexperienced traveller. 

Link, however, was _neither_ of these things. 

With a small sigh, he stepped in front of the Bokoblins, and awaited their predictable reaction. He had completely forgone stealth in favour of simply dealing with them in the most efficient manner possible. An uninformed observer may have considered Link's complete lack of concern to be either the product of overconfidence, or arrogance. However, the truth of the matter was that, at his present level of skill, such basic monsters were of almost no threat to him whatsoever.

If Link was being completely honest with himself, he may _just_ have admitted that his cavalier attitude was also an attempt to impress Mipha, to show off to her. Though he would _never_ confirm that sentiment to any other, under pain of death. He smirked to himself: He truly hadn't changed from when he was a young boy, always trying to impress her with feats of reckless heroism. 

Although, he supposed that this could _hardly_ qualify as a reckless feat, at least by his own skewed standards.

The first Bokoblin, a red one, spotted Link as he stood in the clearing. With a grunt of alarm, it alerted its neighbour, and charged at Link with the small wooden club it was holding. The second Bokoblin, this one blue, was slower to respond as it went to retrieve its weapon. The red Bokoblin let out an inhuman wail, before leaping at Link with all of the grace of a Great-Horned Rhinoceros. 

Link, in response, simply stepped to the side of the Bokoblin's telegraphed assault, before burying his sword to its hilt in its ugly, deformed face. With a grimace, Link drew his blade and flicked it twice to remove it of the ichor, before facing the blue Bokoblin with a look of total disdain.

Bokoblins, like most monsters, lived in a hierarchy determined by their strength. As such, blue Bokoblins were immediately superior to their red counterparts and were therefore slightly stronger, and _very_ slightly more intelligent. The blue Bokoblin, having retrieved its weapon, had clearly witnessed the fate of its brethren, and decided to approach Link more cautiously. It slowly approached Link, before its admittedly low patience wore out, and it swung its sword in a clumsy, wide arc in Link's general direction. 

Link, utterly unimpressed by the martial prowess of either Bokoblin, met its blade with his own, before a savage riposte ripped the Bokoblin's sword from its grasp, and Link delivered a coup de grace via his own technique, the Spin Attack, relieving the blue Bokoblin of its head. With a bored glance towards the corpses, Link sheathed his sword, and turned to face Mipha with a hint of a proud, boyish grin.

Mipha, for her part, was utterly entranced by the motions of her companion. The brutal efficiency with which he dealt with the monsters, as well as the complete dismissal towards the threat they presented, clearly indicated that this man was _extremely_ well versed in the art of combat. She'd gazed, transfixed, at his form as he set about defeating the Bokoblins, and had been completely absorbed in his movements. 

Her eyes had been locked on his right arm, as he'd directed the sword in a graceful and hauntingly beautiful, yet efficient, stroke, as he'd pivoted on the ball of one foot, sending the sword sweeping through the neck of the Blue Bokoblin with balance and flow that would shame even the most graceful of dancers. The sword had been met with little resistance as it passed through the monster's neck, which indicated to Mipha that not only was his sword of exceedingly high quality, and likely well taken care of, but that the technique of its wielder was utterly impeccable.

She silently reassessed her opinion of the man who was acting as her guide and guardian, as she found herself almost _intimidated_ by his display. Although, she reassured that he had not once made any such aggressive move towards herself. Indeed, as proficient as he was, compounded with her own vulnerability, Mipha knew that it would have been well within his capabilities to overpower her, to _harm_ her, had he so wished. Therefore, the mere fact that he _hadn't,_ that he had so generously pledged himself to assisting and _protecting_ her with that power, brought with it an innate feeling of _safety_ that permeated her entire body.

The entire encounter lasted less than ten seconds. After it had concluded, Mipha still remained focused on the swordsman. The final technique he had employed, by which he decapitated the second Bokoblin, seemed to stick at the back of her mind. It seemed almost... _familiar,_ as improbable as that seemed, almost as if Mipha had possibly witnessed the motion before...

The ambiguity of her memories surrounding it served to frustrate Mipha, as she once again cursed her amnesia. She remained a prisoner of her own thoughts as she tried desperately to recall why the Spin Attack seemed so familiar to her. Unfortunately, so absorbed in her own thoughts as she was, she failed to notice a third Bokoblin, as it attempted to sneak up on her. 

Link noticed the Bokoblin before Mipha did. He blanched as panic spread across his face. He called out in desperation to alert Mipha of the threat as it prepared to strike. Upon witnessing his cherished, beloved Mipha in danger, at risk of harm due to his own negligence, at risk of losing an integral piece of his soul that had only just been restored...

Link's vision flashed _crimson._

Upon hearing his shout, Mipha whipped around, as the third Bokoblin launched itself towards her, its spear pointed towards her chest.

By instinct, Mipha ducked the Bokoblin's overextended strike, before retreating a step to open the distance between them. The Bokoblin seemed frustrated that it had missed such an easy target, and it stomped its foot in irritation. 

Mipha's eyes never left the Bokoblin's spear. It was a crude wooden thing, with no metal spike, nor of considerable sharpness. If the Bokoblin had stabbed her with it, the most she would have _truly_ had to worry about was a nasty splinter. She did not let such a thought distract her however, for to underestimate one's enemy was a sure-fire path to dying in a most embarrassing and unbefitting manner.

That advice whispered to Mipha from the edges of her consciousness, like a lecture oft repeated, until its message took root, having been drilled into her subconscious. It seemed that _someone_ had been adamant in teaching their combat philosophy to her. Mipha was thankful for that, as she considered it to be very prudent advice, and rather relevant to her current situation. Although, the question remained as to _who_ had done so, bringing with it a familiar exasperation.

She then analysed the Bokoblin's form. Frankly, she was not impressed by what she saw: The Bokoblin's legs were far too far apart, and it held the spear in a position that left it with a very small range of motion and that could be exploited to gain momentum in a spear lock. Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed her companion sprinting towards her to exterminate the new threat, however she realised that he wouldn't be able to reach her before the Bokoblin struck again. With a derisive sigh, Mipha prepared herself to dodge the next strike and retaliate. 

However, as she prepared to evade the next blow, Mipha made the mistake of gazing into the eyes of her attacker. In the Bokoblin's eyes, she saw a raw, _feral_ malice and hunger. The eyes spoke of measured cruelty and unashamed sadism. Mipha repressed a shudder at the vile creature, before a vision flashed in front of her eyes, rendering her immobile, and dead to the world.

_Mipha suddenly found herself in a dark chamber. She was slightly reminded of the Shrine in which she'd first awoken, as the room seemed to contain a similar décor. She realised that she was lying on her back, and that the floor beneath her was damp. She gazed down, expecting to see clear puddles of water beneath her._

_As Mipha looked down, she then suddenly realised that something was **very** wrong. The liquid underneath her was not clear and colourless as she had expected, but was tinted a bright pink. Confused, Mipha moved her hand to scoop some of the liquid into her palm, when she discovered the reason for the water's colouring._

_A large number of lacerations covered her arms and torso, and blood was dripping from the shallow wounds onto the ground around her. Absently, she noticed that she felt no pain from them, however the nature and extent of her wounds had likely sent her into shock._

_She directed her gaze back upwards to try and determine her situation, and came face to face with the most horrifying sight she had ever been unfortunate enough to behold. Not unlike the eye of the Bokoblin, it spoke of malice and sadism, however it was magnified an hundredfold. Furthermore, the gaze held a cruel **intelligence** far beyond that of the simple Bokoblin's. The intelligence that implied a rationality and ability to consciously **choose** to cause pain, and to **revel** in the suffering it wrought._

_Chest heaving, Mipha's pulse began to race, and with it, the rate at which blood was escaping her body increased drastically. Mipha, still locked in the gaze of the malevolent eye, began to panic, as a pure, unadulterated **fear** washed over her body, and seized her limbs..._

The Bokoblin, noticing Mipha's hesitation, launched itself forward in another brutish attack.

Mipha was thrown back into the present just in time to see the Bokoblin's spear swinging towards her head. Time seemed to slow as she realised there was no way she could avoid the strike, as she was still paralysed by fear. She watched the spear inch closer to her, yet her body remained completely unresponsive.

The Bokoblin's blow never landed. _Somehow,_ her companion had managed to cross the distance separating them faster than she had anticipated, or even thought _possible,_ and caught the Bokoblin's strike with his blade. His sword was being held in both hands, with his left grasped firmly around the blade itself, as it pressed up against the spear. He was left unable to direct it towards the Bokoblin, as he tried to wrestle it away from its target. 

From her position behind him, Mipha was hard pressed to realise just how _furious_ he looked; eyes frantic, lips curled back and teeth bared in an utterly _feral_ snarl, as he jostled for advantage.

Finally, Mipha snapped out of her dissociated state, before realising the condition of her surroundings. Her heart still thundered with the echoes of the terror she had experienced, as adrenaline surged through her veins like the Great Zora River in the flood season. 

She concluded that the current situation demanded her action. Faced with the fight-or-flight response inherent to all species, she resolved herself to _fight,_ and assist the man who had so bravely assisted her. Seeing him struggling in combat had awakened something deep, something _primal_ within her: A desire, nay, a _compulsion,_ to _protect._ Spurred into action with a war cry that surprised all three combatants present, Mipha charged at the occupied Bokoblin with the fury and vengeance of a rampaging Lynel.

The Bokoblin was still preoccupied trying to regain control of its weapon from Link, when Mipha struck it with the force of a charging boar. Using claws that were originally intended to catch fish underwater, she tore into the Bokoblin's face, and dug her claws straight into the monsters eye sockets in a display of ruthless precision and brutality that would have shocked her, had she taken any time to consider her actions.

The Bokoblin _squealed_ under Mipha's relentless assault, as it tried desperately to protect its ruined eyeballs from her wrath. That distraction gave Link all the opportunity he needed to free his sword, and plant it through the writhing monster's heart with a savage prejudice and satisfaction.

The Bokoblin gurgled, as it slumped over. It was dead before it hit the ground, but only after it finally stopped twitching did Mipha relent.

Finally, with the encounter thoroughly concluded, the bloodlust surrounding Link dispersed, and he allowed himself to return to a more suitable level of arousal. Truly, he'd _known_ that he would react strongly to the prospect of Mipha in danger. Indeed, his attempts to secure the Plateau proved as much, as he desired _nothing_ more than to protect her from any form of harm, no matter how seemingly trivial. However, he found himself abjectly _shocked_ at the sheer strength of his reaction, how domineering it had been.

~~Although, perhaps he really shouldn't have been. Not when he remembered how he had reacted when faced with the _last_ entity that had done Mipha harm.~~

After analysing the situation, Link found himself flabbergasted by the events that had just transpired. Firstly, he was savagely berating himself for allowing an enemy to escape his notice, and allowing Mipha to be placed in harm's way. The absolute _fear_ that had overtaken him, not to mention the old fears of inadequacy, of failure, of the possibility that he had done all of this, had come _so close_ to getting her back, only to lose her _again..._

He couldn't bear to even consider it.

Secondly, he had not missed the way Mipha had completely frozen under the Bokoblin's stare, and how it had used that distraction to attack her again. Then, Mipha's complete reversal of mood that led to her gouging the bastard's eyes out had only left him speechless. Both at her ferocity, and its intensity.

Instead of trying to interrogate her now, he opted to just try and put the encounter behind them and continue on to the hut. They had a great many things they needed to discuss, but he reasoned that they could wait until they were in a cleaner, safer, and overall more comfortable environment. 

He moved over towards her hunched form, and it was only then that he realised that she was trembling. He was hesitant to rouse her, but he need not have worried, for Mipha quickly rose, and turned to face her benefactor with an almost mechanical stiffness. The unnatural motion spooked Link, as he subtly shifted his stance into one better prepared for evasion, lest she startle and turn that same ferocity on _him_ in her surprise.

Link's precaution was unnecessary, however, as he could not miss the fact that her eyes were still wide, and her breathing ragged as she repeatedly tried, and failed, to compose herself. Mercifully, he simply reached for her hand and began to gently guide her towards the hut, encouraging her to follow. To his relief, she wordlessly fell into step behind him, and before long, they finally arrived at what would become their temporary residence, without any further incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a special thank you to YellowNoteAnon and their story _Faithful_. Not only is it hugely enjoyable, but also of great inspiration to me when I edited this chapter to improve it. Go check them out.
> 
> Anyway. Interlude 4 should start being uploaded tomorrow. Don't worry. It's nowhere near as long as _Hollow _. ;)__
> 
> _  
> _Comments and feedback are always welcome.__  
> 


	4. Whispers From the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Surprise update incoming!
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

### Chapter 4: Whispers From the Past

### 

Ever since her unwelcome flashback during the fight with the Bokoblin, Mipha's mind, and her heart, had been racing. The adrenaline that filled her body had yet to dissipate, however, instead of the state of hyper-awareness she had experienced proceeding her unanticipated vision, she had regressed into a state closer to when she was ensnared in it. As Mipha's awareness retreated into herself, she had briefly worried for her safety, until she felt the reassuring comfort of her companion's presence. 

She was only faintly aware of his hand interlocking with her own, as he gently led her forwards, yet even this minor comfort managed to soothe her trepidation immeasurably. Her last rational decision was to place her full trust in him, and have faith in his ability to lead her to safety, before her conscious mind slipped away, lost to the fog of her dissociation.

Link was rather concerned for his aquatic companion; concern that was steadily growing. Mipha had yet to say a word since their encounter with the Bokoblins, and ever since then, her consciousness had seemed even further away than the Hebra mountains. Her blank eyes were completely devoid of the warmth and kindness that he was so used to seeing from her, which unsettled him greatly, as whenever he glanced back to check on her, she stared right through him, as if he wasn't even there. The only feedback he received from her was the occasional squeezing of the hand she was holding on to. Other than that, Mipha gave no indication that she was aware of anything around her, entirely lost in the recesses of her own mind.

Link knew, from painful experience, just how overwhelming even the most mundane of experiences could be, in such an impressionable, vulnerable state as Mipha was now in. Unfortunately, he also knew that there was very little he could do to assist her; she would have to find her way out of her head by herself, and Link could only stand guard patiently until she returned, as much as it rankled him to consider. 

Whilst Mipha was, by nature, a quiet individual, Link knew that this silence was far from typical or healthy behaviour. Rather, the catatonic and detached state that Mipha was in could be indicative of a more serious, underlying ailment. Although none of the Bokoblin's attacks had connected, and Mipha did not show signs of injury, Link was all too aware that ailments of the mind could be just as serious as any physical wound inflicted on a person. 

He was also filled with the trepidation that he knew woefully little on how to go about treating injuries to one's psyche. He only had his own twisted, unhealthy coping methods to base judgement on, and he knew that he would never advise Mipha to follow such... _destructive_ tendencies as he had.

Meanwhile, Link was having to deal with mental demons of his own. He once again berated his carelessness. Mipha had yet to be revived for a single day, and he had already broken the vow he had made to keep her from any further harm. Despite the fact that the Zora had not sustained any external wounds, he took no consolation between the state she was now in, as well as the knowledge that it had only been uncharacteristically good fortune that she had avoided injury.

He could not afford to rely on such fortune to keep her from harm indefinitely. Therefore, to ensure her safety, he would have to take more precautions, be more prepared, be faster, stronger, sharper...

For her sake, he would be _better._

Link was, sadly, _intimately_ familiar with failure. The nature of his failure over a century ago had directly led to Hyrule's decline and almost to its complete destruction. The scars of the land would still be present long, long after he perished, either from old age or whatever stupid endeavour that ultimately caused his second demise. 

He had yet to make peace with this fact, but he had at least acknowledged it, which was a start.

The defeat of Calamity Ganon at his and Zelda's hands did little to exonerate him, at least in his own eyes. Although most of Hyrule had lauded him as a saviour, he himself could not escape the truth that he was a _failure._ A failure who had _fucked up_ his most important task, and whose failure had led to the deaths of countless people, including the ones he had cared for the most. A failure who was undeserving of the praise heaped upon him. A failure who, through his carelessness and arrogance, had allowed harm to befall his charge.

He cursed himself again. This was one factor in his life where he would not and, more simply, _could not_ accept failure. Link knew the dark recesses of his mind that had plagued him in recent years had only been held at bay by the thin walls of hope that the possibility of Mipha's return had offered him. Even then, he could now admit that his dedication, his _obsession,_ to this task had been beyond unhealthy, bordering on utterly ruinous. Though, he had and would continue to rejoice in the fact that his efforts had ultimately been successful, he was _painfully_ aware how high of a cost he had paid, and of how closely he had come to failure, regardless.

So, if something were to happen to her now, as a result of his inadequacy, well...

Link was under no illusion that he would be consumed by his depression and anguish. And, this time, with no impossible third chance, it would be _terminal._

As such, he held onto Mipha's hand so tightly, he was afraid he was cutting off her circulation. However, he could not bring himself to stop; her presence, her touch, was a vital thirst to him, and, after being parched for so long, his soul was simply begging him to quench it.

If Mipha was caused any discomfort by his desperate squeezing, she made no indication of it. In fact, for every increase in pressure Link sent to her, she returned it. Link could only feel relieved to be able to offer her an anchor, as she was battered by the maelstrom of currents that was her subconscious mind.

Nayru knows that he had needed one, in her position.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mipha returned to awareness to a feeling of utter confusion. Grimly, a cynical part of herself noted that such emotions were already painfully trite. A frustration was building within her; she was becoming exceedingly discontented by the confusion and vulnerability that her amnesia had afforded her. 

The knowledge that there was so much missing from her mind was rather unnerving, but this was exacerbated whenever she experienced something that seemed to hint at nostalgia, or even just slight familiarity. She then became frustrated further by the fact that whatever knowledge or memories she had once possessed were remaining infuriatingly beyond her reach, no matter how painstakingly she racked her brain for context. 

She had tried, and failed, to quash her fear at the possibility that they would forever elude her. She prayed to any benevolent higher power that she would not be eternally trapped in this state of perpetual stupefaction, for it was not a fate that she found particularly enamouring. Therefore, she had found herself unbefittingly impatient for the moment when her memories would begin to return. She had only hoped that such an event would occur sooner, rather than later...

~~Rather than never at all...~~

Her opinion on this matter had shifted after she'd had the misfortune to experience her vision, however. The insatiable curiosity within her had been immediately replaced with abject terror at the nature of the incident she had borne witness to.

There was no doubt in her mind that she had seen herself in said vision. The most logical explanation, therefore, was that the experience was of Mipha's own past. 

On an aside not, she hoped that she would not relive all of her memories in such a... _vivid_ manner. It was tremendously disconcerting, not to mention disorientating.

Mipha admitted that she felt some morbid curiosity surrounding the memory. She was intrigued about the chamber she had been in. The slight resemblance to the chamber in which she had awoken must surely not be coincidental, and any hint to her identity or previous life was enticing. However, that curiosity was overwhelmingly overshadowed by the echoes of the terror she had experienced, as well as trepidation for potential future recollections. 

If every memory she had once possessed had been as awful as that, then she didn't believe that she _should_ want to remember her previous life. Surely, in that case, amnesia such as hers would be a blessing in disguise?

But, _surely_ they couldn't all be as ghastly as that, she reasoned. Surely there _must_ be pleasant memories, ones worth recovering, ones she would be glad to remember.

_Surely?_

Mipha had been so engrossed by her musings, that she had barely noticed that she had been guided into a ramshackle cottage, and delicately sat down upon the bed within. She still had her companion's hand clutched tightly in her own, and she pulled it close to her chest, perhaps that its presence may serve to stabilise her frayed nerves, as she bombarded herself with endless questions to which she discovered no answers.

After a short eternity of rumination, Mipha eventually decided that the only way to begin to seek answers for herself was to take an active role in searching for them. She knew that such a task would begin with a long overdue discussion about the nature of the Sheikah Slate, with which her companion had implied familiarity.

With herculean effort, Mipha dragged herself back towards full alertness. Upon her return, she only then noticed a wetness in her hand. A quick inspection revealed a small rivulet of blood running down her companion's palm, weeping from an unseen wound he must have sustained in their fight. 

The sensation of viscous fluid trickling into her palm startled Mipha, and she drew her hand away from his in surprise. Upon looking, she noticed the blood congealing in her hand, staining her pale palms into a similar shade as her scales.

''Oh my,'' she breathed, ''It appears that you are wounded.'' She indicated towards his bleeding hand with a nod of her head.

Link was startled at her sudden activity, but his practised stoicism allowed him to suppress any outward response to his shock.

''Ah, welcome back.'' He greeted, unable to mask the relief in his voice. Upon Mipha's somewhat insistent prompting, he glanced towards his hand.

''Oh, this? Truly, it's nothing to worry about. Really, it's just a flesh wound.'' replied Link, dismissively. 

''No!'' cried Mipha, surprising both herself and Link with her assertiveness. ''If left untreated, it could become infected or worse.'' she continued.  
''Let me look at it, and we'll see if I cannot bandage it up.'' Mipha's voice had decreased in volume exponentially since her outburst, as if she was afraid of overstepping her bounds by commanding the man to seek treatment. However, she found herself stubbornly refusing to budge on the issue.

Realising that he was in a losing battle, Link relented. Most soldiers who had survived combat quickly learned not to irritate their healers, and for good reason. Besides, Link was secretly overjoyed to witness that Mipha had retained her medical instinct. He realised that he could take advantage of this opportunity to see if Mipha had retained _anything else,_ in her capacity as a healer.

He hadn't planned to reintroduce Mipha to her healing abilities quite this early, however hopefully reacquainting her with a most important aspect of herself would only be to her benefit.

The dichotomy between her usual meekness, and her unyielding resolution whenever she was faced with a reluctant patient had always been amusing, provided you weren't the target of her ire. Link, unfortunately, had happened to be the target of her ire more often than was good for him, but he would not have changed that fact for all of the diamonds in Death Mountain, so long as he'd had an excuse to remain in her presence, an excuse for her to care for him.

The longing nostalgia surrounding the situation brought Link no small amount of joy.

''Very well,'' he sighed, then presented his hand towards Mipha, attempting to mask his elation with resignedness.

Mipha could not explain why she had been so adamant to treat this relatively minor wound. Since she had noticed it, she had felt an inexplicable urge to attend to it and provide relief to her kind companion. She had also been incredibly surprised that he trusted her enough to allow her to look at it herself, rather than treat it on his own, especially given her amnesia. His faith sent another shot of warmth through her body and brought a smile to her face; it was endearing and gratifying that he placed so much trust in her.

With his hand once again grasped in her own, she delicately turned his hand over, so that she could inspect his palm and the wound adorning it.

It was a shallow, yet long cut, and blood was still oozing from it at a mildly concerning rate. He would be in no danger of blood loss, yet it would take a significant amount of time to seal on its own, and, in that time, any manner of infection may attempt to take hold. Mipha once again wondered how her friend had come upon such a wound; the only Bokoblin with a weapon capable of cutting had been promptly disarmed then beheaded, without ever landing a strike on him. In fact, the only other sharp weapon that was in that fight had been...

The realisation hit her like a plunge into icy water. The only other sharp weapon he had been in contact with was _his own._

When he had deflected the blow (meant for _her_ ) from the third Bokoblin, Mipha had noticed that he'd held his sword in both hands, yet his left had not been placed on the hilt, but rather on the blade itself. The only logical explanation for his injury would be that while he was holding his sword, the blade had cut into his skin.

Mipha gasped at her newfound comprehension, and looked at the man partly in awe and incredulity. Why had he been so foolish as to act so rashly and cause himself injury by grabbing a sword by the blade? She decided to voice her question to him.

Link had been expecting her question, for nothing had been a greater constant in his early life than Mipha chastising him for injuries and wounds that he'd managed to pick up, either through his infamous reckless abandon, or simply bad luck. Link knew he had more than what probability would dictate to be a fair share of misfortune.

The thoughts of his misadventures often brought a chuckle to him in hindsight. One that came to mind was that time he climbed Ploymus Mountain, which had ended with the Lynel that lived there being launched over the edge of Shatterback Point, with Link not too far behind it. The splash the beast had made when it hit the water of the East Reservoir Lake must have woken the entirety of Lanayru. Sidon had been rather concerned, to say the least.

As he'd informed the Prince, it wasn't that he'd been _looking_ to fight it, he just hadn't realised that there had been a Blood Moon since the last time he'd been up there.

Besides, he had conducted an _extremely_ scientific experiment that day, and had conclusively proved that Shatterback Point was _more than_ worthy of its name, so it hadn't been a frivolous waste of time after all. Zelda would be so proud!

~~He remorselessly crushed the spike of guilt that merely _thinking_ of Zelda managed to elicit.~~

However, he realised that this train of thought was not really relevant to the matter at hand. 

Regardless, he had prepared an answer, and its justification, so he answered her worried question succinctly:

''In order to deflect the blow from the Bokoblin, I needed the strength of both arms, and the stability of a more centralised grip, which I needed if I was to absorb the strike without it blowing through my guard.''

She did not require him to explain why he was so adamant that the strike _not_ break past his guard.

Mipha was silenced by his answer. The explanation had placated her, as she certainly understood his reasoning, yet she could not help but feel remorse for forcing him to take such a stance to defend her to his own detriment. Had she not detested the very concept of acting as a helpless dependent, not a few hours earlier? She resolutely decided that she would not abide by permitting her companion any further suffering due to her own insufficiencies. She would seek to remedy this particular issue as soon as an opportunity presented itself. 

Despite her introspection, her companion had continued speaking, unabated.

''Now that I think on it, it probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done, but as they say, desperate times and all that...  
It was probably more of a spear technique than a sword one'' he mused quietly.

Mipha almost missed his closing remark. She had been intrigued by his reference to a phrase involving 'desperate times and all that' as he'd so eloquently put, but his mention of spear technique had caught her attention. She briefly thought back on the encounter; the way he had wielded his sword was definitely reminiscent of defensive spear-play, yet something about his technique had seemed somehow off...

Before she even realised what she was doing, Mipha had taken it upon herself to correct his technique.

''If you were truly attempting to emulate spear technique, then it would have been much more efficient to angle your weapon so to deflect the force of the enemy's strike and step inside its overextended guard and deliver a thrust to its unguarded core.'' 

It seemed that both people present were shocked by her outburst. She scolded herself internally; she had no right to critique his technique when she had been busy doing her best impression of a deer caught in the light of a hunter's lantern. Despite her self-criticism, her companion merely laughed. He clearly took no offence to her comment, and his joviality certainly lightened the mood of the hut.

''Well, my dear, would you happen to be an expert in spear combat by any chance?'' Link asked, good-naturedly, without a hint of condescension, yet humour was tinting his words.

The statement caused Mipha to blush once again. Perhaps this man, who was so obviously skilled in combat, was merely humouring her and her petty comments. This caused Mipha to stammer, and attempt to retract her previous statement. However, the man would not allow it.

''No, no, my dear. Any criticism given with the attempt to be constructive is a worthy statement to make. After all, we can always stand to improve ourselves and the first step to improvement is to identify a flaw.'' he rebutted, sagely.

''Besides, I do believe that you are right. My form was far from perfect, and despite the favourable outcome of the event, that problem led to an injury. Therefore, I will take your advice to heart, and strive to not repeat the same mistake in the future.''

His mention of his injury closed whatever tangent Mipha's mind was travelling down. After all, they had still yet to dress the wound. She absently realised that throughout the entire dialogue, she still had his hand held captive in her own. He hadn't made any move to retract it, so Mipha could assume that he wasn't uncomfortable, but she hoped that he hadn't noticed how her pulse rate had spiked whenever he called her 'my dear'.

Something in the tone of his voice sent shivers down her spine, and her traitorous body decided that she enjoyed the feeling immensely, much to her embarrassment. She buried that feeling deep within herself; it would do her no good to dwell on such intimate emotions when she had a task to complete.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the man attempting to rise.  
''I don't have any alcohol to disinfect the cut, but perhaps it would be best to wash it out with clean water anyway.''

Mipha agreed with his statement, but there was a nagging thought in her brain that told her that it shouldn't be necessary. When he tried to remove his hand, she held on to it unyieldingly.

Despite his questioning look, Mipha was practically deafened by her instincts screaming at her with the assurance that there was _something_ she could do. She had yet to have any inclinations even a fraction as strong as the one she felt in that moment, so she decided that she would listen to her subconscious memories, in hopes of learning more about herself.

''Maybe... I think I may be able to help'' she replied weakly, uncertainly, as if she herself was doubting what her mind seemed so insistent of informing her.

At her words, her companion immediately reseated himself, and gazed at her encouragingly, _expectantly._

Mipha's brow furrowed in concentration, as she directed her focus to the cut in his calloused skin. Suddenly, from deep within her, a well of power that. until now, had gone unnoticed, surged to life. Mipha's eyes widened as a soft blue glow emanated from her hands, and was directed towards the wound.

The power was so joyfully familiar that she felt that she might weep with elation. This was the first time that anything had felt so familiar, and welcoming, and _right,_ and she was ecstatic in the knowledge that she had rediscovered something so important, so _fundamental,_ to herself. 

Now she had been reacquainted with the feeling of the power permeating her entire body, she wondered how she had ever survived without it. It felt like an integral and irreplaceable part of her being, and she could not fathom how she could have forgotten such a crucial part of herself. She could almost compare the feeling to suddenly discovering an extra limb that had somehow previously gone unnoticed, such was the extent of the power's importance to her.

The power washed through Mipha's skin and focussed itself in her palms. The warmth accompanying it diffused throughout her body, and Mipha allowed herself to be lost in its inviting, relaxing embrace, sedating her overactive mind. She realised, mutely, that the glow was being absorbed into its target, and she wondered if her companion was feeling this same euphoria that it brought to her. Unfortunately, she found it hard to tell beneath his hood if his eyes had widened in surprise, or in rapture.

Link watched as Mipha's Grace worked to seal the cut in his skin, and the familiar, reassuring calm and warmth that it brought seeped into his hand. He likened the experience to being wrapped in the safe embrace of a loved one. One who would never allow any harm to befall those in their care. But then, Link realised, he had _always_ felt such a way when he was in Mipha's soothing presence.

He knew that he would never fully rationalise the feeling of skin, muscles and bones knitting themselves back together, but he reckoned that it would probably be concerning if such a sensation ever became mundane. He smiled as he took in the expression across Mipha's face: Her eyes had dilated to an almost comical degree, and her mouth was open in a state of wonderment. He was holding out on the hope that the act of rediscovering her most treasured gift might spark faint memories in his dearest companion.

In less than a minute, Link's skin had been fully repaired, and Mipha had left not even a trace of the wound's presence. She stared, silently, at his now healed hand, before a whistling filled her ears, and her vision was swamped by the white noise.

_Mipha was surrounded by blue: the walls, the floor and the ceiling around her were all coloured different shades that reminded her of the deep waters of a lake, or an ocean. The architecture was impressive, with several arches and columns commanding the attention of all who were present to witness the magnificent works of art that were woven into the luminous stone that comprised the Domain. However, as fittingly impressive as the surroundings were, the room around her gradually lost focus and clarity, until the only thing Mipha could see clearly was the arm of a very young Hylian boy, which was cradled gently in her own._

_A small scrape was present on the boy's elbow. The skin surrounding the scrape had been torn away by friction, leaving an angry red sore open to the elements._

_Mipha looked at the boy's face. His eyes were filled with tears, and his cheeks had flushed. Trails of tears that had leaked from his eyes streaked down his cheeks and finally dropped off his chin, onto the cool stone below. Mipha wordlessly smiled, and brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, and wiped the remaining tears away with her finger, taking extreme care not to catch him with her claws. The boy was looking at her with enormous eyes, as his lips wobbled in pain._

_Mipha's hands began to glow, and, with them, the wound on the boy's arm began to fade. The boy's expression immediately morphed to shock, then wonder as his arm was healed before his eyes. When she was finished, Mipha released his arm, but the boy did not move. Instead, he stared at her, tears vanished, in an expression that could only be described as awestruck._

_Mipha giggled lightly. She had expected that her power would elicit some kind of reaction; it often did in those who had not witnessed it before, yet the reaction of this young Hylian may be amongst the most memorable she had yet encountered. She patted his head softly and whispered to him in the same maternal voice she used with young Sidon._

_''If you are ever wounded again, then you need only find me, and I will always heal you.''_

_Her words broke the stupor the boy had fallen into. Suddenly, he bounded up, the inexhaustible energy he had displayed before had returned, before he gave her the biggest hug he could muster, wrapping his small arms around her torso. The embrace lasted at least five seconds, before he finally released her, and ran away to re-engage with the other children's activities. Before he took five steps, he abruptly turned, and blurted out._

_''Thank you, Lady Mipha.''_

_His response made her giggle again. The innocence of youth, punctuated with the sudden remembrance of manners that had yet to be fully drilled in, reminded her so much of her dear brother._

_''Of course, my dear. And as long as no adults are around, then please, just call me Mipha.'' she replied, somewhat conspiratorially, a wink gracing her eye._

_She was desperate to not be alienated by all of her peers, and she had decided that the best way to accomplish this was to not present herself as distant and unapproachable through her titles. As highly as she regarded the members of her father's court, she realised that they could often be quite... stuffy. She found herself desiring the company of those closer to her own age, and this decision would surely be the first step to achieving this._

_She recognised that Muzu would certainly not appreciate her choice to allow them address her by name only, but she found that, if the alternative was social isolation, she would be willing to tolerate his displeasure, and the consequences that would bring._

_The boy seemed to not fully know how to process her statement, as he stood frozen to the spot. Before long, however, he had launched himself towards Mipha for another hug. Whilst he was pressed up next to her, he whispered in her ear:_

_''You're the bestest and nicest Zora I ever met.''_

_Her heart melted._

_''It is my pleasure.''_

With that declaration, Mipha's vision returned to white, as the scene ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Mipha was once again jolted back to awareness. Her frantic gaze flickered around the room, before landing on the concerned eyes of her benefactor. His worry was evident in the crease in his forehead and the inquisitive arch of an eyebrow. He regarded her with an appraising look; Mipha did not know what he was searching for in her gaze, but it appeared that whatever he found, he was content with, as he shrugged off her episode with an easygoing smile.

''Do you plan to make a habit of staring into the middle distance?'' he asked. His attempt to diffuse the suddenly sombre situation with humour was not lost on Mipha, however she was under the impression that his facetiousness was not prudent nor particularly helpful to her current ailment. Her annoyance at his offhanded comment showed in the way she frowned lightly at his words.

Still, her musings notwithstanding, she realised that she probably owed her companion an explanation for her distracted behaviour, especially since it had led to his injury. Given the way in which he had taken it upon himself to be her protector and provider, she decided that the least she owed him was her honesty in way of showing her gratitude and appreciation. Furthermore, perhaps he would even be able to offer some insight into her visions...

After moving to answer, Mipha paused for a moment, weighing her response before she answered with an uncharacteristic surety, and a wistful sigh.

''Just now, I experienced what I can only describe as a vision.'' She paused to gauge his response. To her surprise, her companion had immediately straightened up, and was now directing his full attention to her words. Mipha was shocked by how quickly his mood had flipped from light-hearted to serious in the literal blink of his eyes, but she appreciated his willingness to indulge her.

She reminded herself of the event. There had been names she had recognised. She had mentioned a father, a brother, _Sidon,_ Muzu...

The boy had called her 'Lady Mipha', and it had seemed to be the source of much consternation to her, much in line with the rest of the memory. Was she of nobility, or was he merely attempting to be polite? Perhaps that gave context to her excitement upon seeing the great castle from before?

Given these tantalising clues, dangled before her like bait on a fishing rod, she strove furiously to assign faces, memories, emotions, to the people she could _almost_ remember. Sadly, all of her attempts came up blank.

''I was witness to a scenario wherein I used the same ability that healed your wound to heal the injury of a young Hylian boy.'' she continued. 

And, how, exactly, did she know what a Hylian was? It had just seemed so natural, so easy, to assign the label to the boy, in the same way that she did now to the man before her. She knew that Hylians were different to the Zora; they were much less adapted to living in water, and possessed hair instead of fins and scales, but beyond that?

She wondered if there were any other sapient inhabitants of the land they found themselves in, different to both Zora and Hylians. However, any attempt to recall this information lead only to vague colours and sensations, that she found impossible to process into anything meaningful. She bit down on her familiar frustration.

The man's eyes widened in shock. Mipha thought it almost comical how drastically his behaviour had shifted, before she cut off his response by continuing her explanation.

''I also experienced a similar flashback in my altercation with the Bokoblin. Although that vision was far less _pleasant..._ '' she finished, quietly, tactfully understating the terror that was _still_ reverberating in her bones, for the sake of politeness.

The man seemed to have not heard her closing remark, or perhaps he'd simply elected to ignore it. The excitement on his face had not dimmed in the slightest as he considered the possibilities of her statement.

''Are you quite sure that you saw yourself in those visions?'' he asked, hopefully.

Mipha took a moment to reflect on what she had seen. It did not take her long to conclude that there was no other reasonable explanation; the emotions and events she had experienced were unequivocally her own. At her affirming nod, the man's excitement increased tenfold.

''Well, this most wonderful news!'' he remarked. ''This could mean that whatever other memories you once possessed could be reclaimed as well. We are one step closer to discovering who you are!''

Mipha considered this.

Given the blessed, cherished, nature of the second memory, she found herself most certainly wanting to remember more of what she had forgotten. The desire to know about herself, and fill the gaping void her amnesia left within her, burned with the ferocity of the sun itself. However, she was still not particularly keen on revisiting the vision with the malevolent eye that had paralysed her with fear; tremors still jolted through her upon recollection of that cursed scene. She hoped desperately that any subsequent memories would be more reminiscent of the warm nostalgia she'd experienced in her second vision, even as much as she feared uncovering more traumatic experiences. 

She did not voice these concerns, however. She did not wish to impede on the infectious optimism of her companion.

Mipha also could not help but notice the similarities between the boy in her vision and the man she was accompanied by now. They both seemed to possess boundless enthusiasm and express their excitement in similar ways, although the man in front of her seemingly possessed something that his younger counterpart had lacked. It took a moment for her to realise what it was:

The man in front of her held a quality that Mipha could only interpret as _tiredness._ A weariness of the world that the innocent child had decidedly lacked. It was remarkably, _astoundingly,_ easy for her to interpret, even behind his swamping cloak and shining smile. Whether seated or stood, he hunched a little beneath what should be his normal height, and even his most energetic, optimistic grin seemed to lack something so abstract, yet so fundamental...

Mipha had the most disquieting impression that both of these things were merely vehicles to mask something deeper. Something _sadder._

And, possibly even more concerning, she had _absolutely no idea_ how she had managed to discern this.

Mipha supposed that she could attribute his behaviour to being customary amongst Hylians, when showing, or _attempting to show,_ excitement. She was woefully uneducated in her own people's customs and behaviours, so she could not hope to project knowledge onto another species'. She dismissed the surface level comparisons with a quick shake of her head; she could only be projecting her memories, and her desperate desire for familiarity, onto this man. It would be a grievous injustice to allow her estranged memories to impact her judgement and treatment of the character in front of her.

Although, now that she thought on it, her companion had mentioned that he was familiar with the Zora, and their customs... Perhaps...

Would it be too outlandish to hope that he may have been a part of her obscure past?

Either the man possessed impressive telepathic abilities, or, more likely, she must have voiced her inner musings, as the man gave a long-suffering sigh before responding.

''My dear, I shudder to imagine what manner of tragedy could befall a man to forget one as remarkable as yourself, but I know that I wouldn't wish it upon _anyone..._ '' He kicked his feet up onto the flimsy table and shut his eyes with a weary sigh. The day had taken a lot out of Link. The emotional whiplash of dealing with his revived love had left him completely drained. Still, the _real_ reason for his display was the simple fact that he couldn't bear to look into her eyes as he said this.

''I am _truly_ sorry that I cannot yet provide you with more information about your past, but I hope you will allow me to assist you in recovering it, at least.''

Link decided that he absolutely _loathed_ lying to Mipha. Although _technically_ none of what he had said was incorrect, at least from a certain point of view, he was of the firm opinion that a lie by omission was a lie nonetheless. 

(As Link would be happy to inform anyone who asked, Ganon was not a person. Ganon was an _abomination._ )

Of course, this fact was exacerbated by the knowledge of _who_ exactly he was lying to, or, more accurately, _manipulating_ with half-truths, which was possibly an even _greater_ abuse of trust. The guilt he was feeling tore him up internally. Despite that, Link thought that it was infinitely preferable to the pain that a premature revelation of Mipha's past could bring to her. If this sacrifice was necessary to protect her, then Link would bear it, regardless of his inner turmoil.

Unfortunately for Link, Mipha was by far the most emotionally astute individual he had ever met, and she'd always had a way of seeing through whatever facade or persona he could construct with an unnerving clarity. Or maybe it was her emotional attunement to him specifically that had always allowed her such an uncanny insight into his mind. He digressed.

Whenever he'd had the luxury of visiting her, in the days before the Calamity, she had made it obvious that, despite Link's best efforts, she had never been fooled by his distant behaviour. Rather, she had realised that his silence was his (admittedly) flawed method of bearing the immense weight that had been thrust upon him by the Kingdom of Hyrule. She had also realised that his attempts at deflection from her, and the others he cared about, had arisen from fear and a misguided sense of loyalty; he had not wanted to burden her with what he'd perceived as his own troubles, especially when he knew that she was carrying more than her own fair share. 

Of course, what Link had not realised was that Mipha had been _more than willing_ to shoulder his burdens as well. She had attempted to make this fact abundantly clear in their private meeting atop Vah Ruta. Her efforts had indeed borne fruit, for he had subsequently opened up to both herself and Princess Zelda not long after his visit had been concluded. Mipha had seemed to take great joy from the fact that her advice and support had helped to not only re-establish their own friendship, but cultivate the relationship between Link and Princess Zelda as well.

Mipha had always taken notice of Link's delicate emotional state, despite the impassable shields that masked it, and it seemed that her hundred year slumber had not changed that, either.

As such, Mipha had noticed the resigned sigh that emanated from her companion, and she had immediately and instinctively resolved to remedy his forlorn state. She briefly contemplated on how best to achieve this, before realisation struck her: Her companion had promised an explanation on the Sheikah Slate and its functions. She hoped that he did not lack the energy to offer his lecture now.

It seemed that Mipha's hunch was correct, for the moment she mentioned the Slate, Link's eyes shot open, and he launched into a detailed history of the Sheikah who had crafted the Slate, as well as its functions and significance, with an enthusiasm, and true excitement, that Mipha had been relieved by, and had begun to associate with him.

Link did not spare any details on the Slate's capabilities, even going so far as to partake in a few impromptu demonstrations, with which Mipha was extremely entertained, if her engrossed expression was any indication. Due to their mutual engagement, neither of the hut's residents noticed the passage of time, until Link _finally_ concluded his impromptu seminar, and they both realised that night had long since fallen on the Plateau. He promised to speak more in the morning, for they were both in desperate need of sleep.

Mipha's final thoughts before she was reclaimed by slumber were of brief panic at the possibility that she would wake in the morning with no memories. The fear of losing everything to sleep, and waking up with nothing once again, startled her awake, to the concern of her companion. Noticing her agitation, Link positioned himself closer to the bed he had offered her, in order to offer comfort and reassurance with his presence.

Grateful for his astuteness, Mipha successfully managed to calm herself, as he soothed her into a restful, if fitful, slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...
> 
> Please let me know what you think below! ;)


	5. A New Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sneaks back into account*
> 
> *Checks last upload date.*
> 
> ...
> 
> Hi guys, I'm back. Sorry about the wait, life came at me _hard,_ but we should all be good, now.
> 
> I have a Tumblr now. Come find me under the name c-aureus  
> Feel free to ask me anything. :)
> 
> Also, thanks so much for 1000 views on _A Promise Kept_. I'm so glad to have reached so many people. I hope you all continue to enjoy this story.
> 
> My thanks to aviatordame for beta reading this. Go read their stuff, if you haven't already. It's really good.

### Chapter 5: A New Dawn

### 

Link awoke first, his eyes flickering open just before daybreak. In an instant, he was fully roused and ready, silently rising from his vigil at the side of Mipha's bed.

Furiously, Link shook his head to remove the haze of sleep from his eyes, and force the world into focus through willpower alone. His efforts were only partially successful, as the world acceded to his demands, however the fog clouding his mind mulishly refused to budge.

He stood, in Rhoam's hut, silent as ever, poised and waiting to put down any manner of threat foolish enough to make itself apparent with the utmost prejudice and scorn. It was a frame of mind that he had almost forgotten he possessed; for so long now, he'd only had his own safety to consider. It was rather novel, and nostalgic, to be trusted with the safety of another once again, especially one as precious to him as she.

It was quite telling that he placed immeasurably more care and effort into the protection of others in his care than he did for himself.

After determining that they were both safe, that there was not a pack of Bokoblins waiting to break down the door, Link huffed in a deep breath, as he sought to relax himself.

However, as he inhaled, he noticed something. A particular scent, one he could _never_ forget, not rid himself of entirely. Foul with the weight of millennia of hatred, corrupted by the perversion of a once-Divine power, twisted towards evil, sickening in its capacity for sadism, for damage, for cruelty...

Link could smell Malice. _Ganon's Malice._

In a panic, he whirled around to face his charge, his love, his _reason for being._ He had never missed the Master Sword more than he did in that moment. He _had_ to protect her, he _had to keep her safe, **he couldn't lose her to Ganon, not again.**_

One single glance told him that he was already too late.

Mipha lay in the bed, as silent as she had been in slumber, the previous night. But now, there was a deathly stillness to her, no rise of her chest, no flare of her gills...

If it weren't for the weight of Link's world shattering around him, he would have known instantly that she was gone.

He rushed to her side, consumed with desperation, with grief, with denial. Only as he approached did he realise that the scent of Malice was increasing in potency. In fact, it seemed to be emanating _from_ her.

Link reached her and, with a gentleness that did not match his frame of mind, he went to turn her over; to see her face, to take her pulse, to see if there was _anything_ he could still do for her.

What he saw was enough to make him vomit.

As he laid his hand on her shoulder, he felt the signature corroding burn of Malice, seeking to eat away at his flesh, until even his very bones had been melted away. He ignored it, and persevered, as he had many times before, for the sake of his duty, and for his vengeance. When he flipped her over, only then did he see the true extent of the damage.

Mipha's body was _covered_ with Malice. Her scales were flaking away, the exposed flesh underneath rotten and fetid, and the skin of her face was pulled tight, taut with rigor mortis. Her teeth were exposed in a silent scream, that had become a snarl, and her eyes had rotted away entirely, the empty sockets filled with more of the defiling Malice.

Link staggered back, stupefied, grief stricken and enraged, hyperventilating all the while. _How_ could this have happened? _How_ could it have gone so wrong?

 _Why?_ Why, after only just getting her back, had she been taken away?

And then, Mipha's eyes opened.

It was not the warm, golden gaze that he adored. There was nothing of her kindness, her wisdom, her charm in them. Instead, she looked out through eyes that were a burning, malicious, _evil_ yellow; the same eyes that Ganon had looked through, the same eyes he had destroyed in countless locations around Hyrule, from the Divine Beasts, to Castle Town. Through her cursed gaze, the only emotions Link could discern were an all-consuming hatred, and an unspeakable agony.

Her eyes locked on his own, and, in that moment, Link knew that they could see through him in his entirety. All of his hubris, his anger, his rage, and, most importantly, his _pain._

''Link?'' she asked. And, somehow, _impossibly,_ it was her voice. Not an imitation, nor a mockery, from Ganon. Link swallowed a retch. It was so much worse than he had first imagined:

Instead of killing her, defiling her corpse, and puppeteering her body in an attempt to mock him, Ganon had instead corrupted her entirely, and left her to her own anguish.

Link would even admit its efficacy; it was far, _far_ crueller to keep her alive, make her live with her agony, and with Link's own burning shame, guilt, and punishment for his blatant hubris.

''Link?'' She asked again, pitiful and wretched as she had become.  
''Link, what have you done to me?'' She asked, afraid, and disgusted, and horrified.

The question was enough to make him shed tears. To have Mipha know that he was the cause of her pain, and to _blame him_ for it...

He stood, silent, utterly incapable of forming a response.

With a sickening _crunch,_ Mipha raised her arm towards him, and, ashamedly, Link staggered back, until he tripped, and fell to his own haunches.

'' _What did you do to me, Link?!_ '' She asked, _demanded,_ from his stricken, collapsed form. As her voice raised, Link could now hear the unending torment that she was being subjected to, that would follow her for the rest of her existence.

''I...'' Link choked, incapable of even seeing through the blur of his tears.

Clearly, this was not enough to satisfy Mipha, for a tendril of Malice shot from her arm, winding its way around Link's exposed throat. With a mighty heave, she _yanked_ Link forwards with far more strength than she would naturally be capable of, until he was face-to-face with her deformed features, forced to look upon the product of his pride, and obsession, and foolishness, and confront it, with nowhere to hide, or shy away from what he had done.

Mipha squeezed harder, and Link's air was stolen from him, as he dangled, at her mercy. Even if he _was_ capable of freeing himself, and fighting back, they all knew that he could _never_ bring himself to raise a hand to her, would never strike her down, even as perverted as she had become, even to save his own life. Link's life was completely in her hands, as it had been so many times before.

As rings of blackness encroached on his vision, as Mipha snarled at him from below, Link, with the last breath within him, could only whisper two words:

''I'm sorry.''

With one final wrench of the noose around his throat, Link's ears were filled with a nauseating crack, and then he slipped into oblivion.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Link awoke, heaving, and gasping for air. Instinctively, he rolled over, sweat drenching his brow, as bile rose in his throat. With a grimace, he swallowed, slowly, and the acid mercifully dropped back into his stomach, where it remained; heavy and cumbersome.

Link looked around, hindered by the thundering of his pulse in his veins, as he sought desperately to ground himself in reality, and leave the trauma of his subconscious in his dreams, where they belonged.

He stretched out, on the floor of the hut, and the protests of his joints hit him all at once, causing him to groan in a barely concealed agony, as he blinked sweat and tears out of his eyes. But, that was good, he reasoned. Pain was good. Pain was grounding, pain meant that this was _real._ Pain meant that he was _still alive._

Speaking of still being alive...

He rose, slowly and stiffly. His body seemed to be making quite the case against sleeping on the bare floor again, much to his chagrin. Unconcerned by his own discomfort, however, he hovered over the raised surface that Mipha lay upon.

By the grace of whatever merciful deity that he hadn't yet forsaken, Mipha was _fine._ Her scales were unblemished, still a healthy crimson hue, and her chest rose and fell softly, with each blessed intake of breath. Moreover, Link had somehow not managed to awake her in his own panic; a fact for which he was immeasurably grateful.

Faced with her safety, the proof of her health, Link heaved a sigh. He then took two more enormous, measured breaths, in an attempt to compose himself. Alas, his efforts were futile; the adrenaline, the fear, the twisted arousal his dream had induced in him simply refused to abate. His muscles tremored and spasmed, as he reached his full height, his incessant twitching exposing just how shaken he truly was.

Night terrors were, regrettably, nothing new to Link. Unfortunately, his familiarity and experience with them did not make them any easier to manage, either. Usually, however, they were not this vivid, not this pointed, and not so directly relevant to his current circumstances.

He'd watched Mipha die in his dreams, before. Countless times, in fact, and almost always in some woefully gruesome and horrifying manner. Oftentimes, she called out to him, cried, screamed, _begged him_ to rescue her, to end her suffering, all whilst he stood, utterly powerless to intervene. It wasn't just her, either. None of the Champions were above haunting his dreams. Sometimes, rarely, it was Zelda herself subject to some awful fate, as Link was forced to watch, helpless, as even the last thing he still had from before was ripped from him prematurely, consigning him to live out the rest of his miserable life without any of the relationships that had defined him...

Many of Link's nightmares also had _him_ the subject of a horrible demise. However, with all that he had lived through and endured, with all that he had survived, and all that had _almost_ killed him... he found that his mind was hard pressed to conjure a situation more disturbing than one he had already lived through. As such, he never tended to pay those ones any mind.

Still, he was familiar enough with waking prematurely from some horrible nocturnal fantasy, that he'd developed a ritual to bring himself to terms with consciousness.

Link closed his eyes, and breathed slowly, deeply. He focussed on his other senses, attuning them to the surroundings. He felt the rough fabric of his cloak scratching away at him, even through the aching of his muscles. He took in the scent of the morning dew drifting along the wandering winds that spilled into the hut, even beyond the musk of the cabin. He strained his ears until he could hear the calls of the rousing birds, even over the thumping of his heart, but even then, he found himself unable to rid himself of his terror entirely.

Opening his eyes, he decided to try another tactic.

He returned himself to Mipha's bedside, as quietly as he could muster, lest he wake her. He took in the wonderful, cherished sight of her; the vulnerability and innocence of sleep. Surprisingly, being faced with her allowed his frantic heart to finally lull itself into a more suitable resting rate, as Link's panic was gently swept away by Mipha's boundless charisma.

He raised a hand to frame her face, above the fin that draped itself above her cheek, but he hesitated, then lamely dropped it to his side. No, it would not do for him to risk waking her with his desperate, foolish, _selfish_ need for his own comfort and consolation. Her needs would _always_ outweigh his own; such was the pledge that he had made.

Despite Mipha being able to charm him into a stupor, even whilst unconscious, Link could not fully settle. All of a sudden, the hut felt too small, too cramped, and Link knew that he needed to leave, to take a moment, and get some fresh air.

What prevented him from doing so, however, was Mipha. He was remiss to abandon her under the best of circumstances, and these hardly qualified as such. Still, he knew that he simply _could not_ remain here, idle, until she awoke; his anxiety would eat away at him without reprieve, until his composure shattered.

Thinking quickly, Link made to grab the book he'd stowed before Mipha's arrival. He turned Rhoam's diary to a blank page, and ripped it out with a haste that left an uneven, jagged tear in the paper. Still, it was of no matter. It would be more than fit for its purpose.

Grabbing a pen, he began to scrawl, however he found that he couldn't keep his hands steady for the life of him. With a snarl, punctuating yet another crossed out word, Link cursed himself, and genuinely wondered what he would not be willing to give in that moment for a hard drink to soothe his frayed nerves.

With the note finished, he left it in plain, obvious view of Mipha for when she awakened. He then turned, and walked out of the door at a pace brisk enough to look rushed.

If he wasn't capable of sitting still until she arose, the least he could do was make himself useful in the meantime.

With that resolution, he grabbed a pail, and made his way for the nearest spring.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The brightness of a new dawn streamed into the small hut, casting the room in an inviting, homely glow. The luminosity, whilst not glaring, was sufficient to coax Mipha out of her deep slumber, as she shifted herself on her cot.

She attempted to sit up, much to the protest of her back, causing a barely concealed yawn to transform into a barely concealed groan. It appeared that the thin blanket beneath her had done little to offset the discomfort caused by sleeping on what was truthfully a glorified bench.

Mipha found that odd, considering that she had previously awoken in a sarcophagus made of literal stone, and yet she had experienced no pain upon rising from it. Although, it would be foolish of her to not expect there to have been other influencing factors at play, there...

She also felt a great deal of pity for her companion; surely he had to deal with this every morning. The prospect of starting every morning in a similar manner to this was not a particularly attractive one to Mipha. Though, she supposed that this would give her all the more motivation to find out more about herself. With any luck, what she discovered would lead her to more comfortable sleeping arrangements, at the very least.

With a glance, Mipha looked around the hut, and noted its vacancy.

Despite the relief and security she'd felt upon realising that she could indeed _remember_ the previous day, that she hadn't lost everything once again, she could not control the unease that rose in her stomach. She was _alone._

Although she'd never stated it outright, she had expected, she had _needed_ him to be there for her, when she awoke. Perhaps she should be more concerned with her blatant, crippling dependency on someone she had known less for a day. Yet, with how readily, how earnestly he had taken her troubles upon himself, she hadn't realised quite how much she was leaning on his support and presence, until he was suddenly gone. 

Mipha tried, and failed, to quell her rising panic. Surely things were just fine, she attempted to reason. He must have just stepped outside to relieve himself, or something similar. She clutched the Sheikah Slate close to her chest, a tad desperately, perhaps to derive some comfort from the only other source of familiarity that had not vanished on her.

It was then that her brain took the courtesy of reminding herself of her blatant clinginess the night before. He'd paused suddenly in his words, and excused himself to make for the door. Instinctively, Mipha's hand had shot out, and anchored him to her. Gently, teasingly, he'd removed her frantic grip, and explained that nature was calling to him. Despite how indulging and accommodating he'd been with her, he'd drawn the line at her watching him void his bowels.

Of course, Mipha had understood his insistence on privacy; she was not raised by beasts (she assumed). But still, she had struggled to wrangle her instinctive desire to remain with him, no matter the circumstances. For some reason, watching him walk away had caused her heart to pang, and her stomach to drop with the most nauseating of premonitions.

She still did not know what to make of that, even as those feelings were re-doubled.

Her frantic search quickly revealed a note, left in plain view from her position on the bed. She lamely hobbled over towards it, suppressing her soreness. Her progress was halted as she stubbed her toe on the table's wonky leg. Swallowing a curse that would have likely given Muzu a heart attack had he been present to hear it from her, Mipha snatched the note from the table and began reading.

She immediately noticed the frayed edges of the paper, as well as the uneven nature of the distribution of the ink. Both signs pointed towards the equipment used to compose this letter being rather old. Despite this, she found that the biggest factor inhibiting the letter's legibility was the rough scrawl that it was penned in, with uneven, wavering lines, and numerous crossings out and ink stains that had soaked into the paper. After several painstaking readings, Mipha believed that she had finally deciphered its meaning.

_Dearest Mipha,_

_If you awaken before I return, then I hope this letter will serve to inform you of my current whereabouts. I have merely journeyed to a nearby spring in order to collect some water. I realise that you must be feeling quite dehydrated, so I hope that this may provide you with some comfort, before we start our journey today._

_There should be nothing of threat to either of us active at this hour, however, if, for whatever reason, you have need of me, just shout, and I will come running._

_Regards,_

_~~L##~~ Your friend and companion._

Relief immediately washed over Mipha with the confirmation that she had _not_ been abandoned by him, that he _would_ come back for her. With her relief came a clarity that confirmed her momentary panic as unfounded. Still, Mipha acknowledged that her dependence and reliance on him was quite worrying; she could not expect him to wait on her forever. One day, she would surely have to part ways with him, no matter how generous he insisted on being. It would, therefore, be conducive for her to begin to build up her independence, so that when that time did come, she would be capable of looking after herself.

In a moment's realisation, Mipha noted that he had not signed the letter with a name. Now that she thought on it, he had never given her a name or title of any kind to call him by. Frankly, Mipha was growing weary of referring to him as 'companion' or other synonyms internally; she needed to find a more permanent way of addressing him. She'd have to bring it up with him, when he returned.

Stepping outside of the building, with a glum sigh, Mipha sat herself down on the fallen log that served as a bench. She would have taken time to appreciate all of the new sensations; the dew drops of the grass beneath her soles, the rough texture of the bark against her scales, if not for the fact that her abused joints were still complaining far too loudly. Running a hand along the length of her tail in an attempt to pacify her irritation, she resolved herself to wait until her companion reappeared. 

In the meantime however, she could use this downtime to experiment with her innate healing abilities. Surely if she could use them to heal others, then healing herself by extension should be child's play? With that flash of inspiration, Mipha attempted to alleviate the lingering aches her bed had left her with.

As her hands flashed blue, and the sacred, soothing wellspring of power within her burst to life, her only conscious thought was that she _truly_ needed to find new sleeping arrangements, as soon as was practically feasible.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking up at the literal arse-crack of dawn was oddly nostalgic to Link.

It was a routine that he had first established when he had begun training as a Knight of Hyrule, and one that had carried over to his journey through the wilderness after his resurrection. However, ever since Ganon had been sealed away for good, Link had no reason to put himself though the daily torture of waking before the sun had even fully risen. This was the first of many habits and routines that he had broken, once he realised that Hyrule no longer had any need for his extraordinary skill set. 

After all, he had defeated the evil monster, and saved the Princess, and 'saved' what little was left of the kingdom. What more was there for him to do?

What need did a kingdom have for a hero, after the crisis had been averted?

Of course, Hyrule was still infested with monsters, and it would require a dedicated, concentrated effort to rid the kingdom fully of this scourge but...

Killing a few (thousand) Bokoblins was hardly a task that _required_ a hero; at least, not in the same way that reclaiming the Divine Beasts, or storming Hyrule Castle had.

Furthermore, monsters were so widespread and common that removing them was inevitably a task that would be insurmountable for a single person, regardless of how skilled or efficient they were at killing said monsters, as his failed attempts to purge the Plateau had proved, rather emphatically.

At least, this was Link's logic. Of course, he would have still lent his assistance to cleansing Hyrule completely, if he had been asked, but it wasn't as if he would realistically be capable of doing so single-handedly. Therefore, he'd seen no real reason to deny himself an extra few hours in bed each morning.

Unfortunately, Link had always been a restless soul. For so long, he'd been so dependent on his obsession, his vengeance, his anger to sustain him, to give him purpose, to motivate him to get back up every time he fell down, be it from an enemy's blow, or simply the requirement to sleep. However, with Ganon gone, this drive had evaporated, leaving Link drifting aimlessly, wallowing in his own grief and failure...

At some point in those endless, fleeting weeks, he'd turned to alcohol, seduced by its insidious promise to allow him to forget his agony, if only for a few merciful moments. It wasn't a time he held the clearest recollection of, since so much of it was spent in a drunken stupor. What he _did_ remember did not paint him in the most favourable light.

He truly would never be able to repay Sidon, for his utterly _infinite_ patience. Although, perhaps returning his sister to him would begin to narrow the margin.

He did not know how he'd be able to go about making reparations with Zelda.

It had taken a near death experience at the claws of a _Lizalfos,_ of all things, to shake him out of his morbid funk.

Not that it had been _him_ near death, but the point still stood.

So, he'd decided to turn his focus, his obsession towards another impossible task. And, if it ended up killing him, as was the greatest likelihood by any reasonable estimate, well...

Well, at least he would have died trying. Perhaps he would have been able to rest easily, with that knowledge.

Link shook his head fiercely, and digressed. It was better to leave those demons in the past, rather than digging them up and confronting them now. Especially since he'd only come out here in the first place to escape some of his other issues. It would be rather counter-intuitive to merely substitute one for another, in what was supposed to be his respite.

Reassuring himself in the knowledge that Mipha was _fine,_ was _not_ under threat, and that he _was_ within range to intervene, should any of that change, he blinked, and tried to forget his woes, and lose himself in the present, for just a brief moment.

He had been amazed by just how much he had forgotten about Hyrule in the early hours of the day. The golden glow of the dawning Sun was seeping through the canopy of the trees above, creating so called 'goddess rays' where the light sneaked between the leaves of the trees overhead, and illuminated the dusty air, casting the floor in a warm sheen. The scent of dewdrops on the undergrowth permeated the woods, and occasionally a lone drop would catch a ray of light, causing the grass to sparkle as if it was embedded with diamonds.

The song of waking birds chirped through the woods, as did the tinkling of what Link assumed to be a wayward Korok. He had yet to hear the distinctive 'Yahaha!' but he assumed that the forest spirit had decided against announcing its presence, and revealing _his_ presence to the wildlife of the Plateau.

How kind of it, Link mused. Koroks, although holding the completely warranted label of 'pranksters', were completely absent of any malicious intent, and seemed to understand the need for stealth. Considering their tendency to hide in ludicrously convoluted locations, this was not surprising. 

This was fortunate, since Link was hoping to retain the element of surprise, as it would make his current task significantly easier.

Said task made itself obvious when Link drew back his bowstring. The creak of the wood echoed faintly in the clearing, and Link froze. The clearing became entirely still in that moment, almost as if this small pocket of Hyrule had been momentarily frozen in time. Quite apropos, Link smirked, given his proximity to the temple. Link's shoulder began to shake with the strain, as he was forced to remain motionless, as he awaited the perfect moment to present itself...

He once again bemoaned just how much more difficult archery became, without good depth perception.

Finally, with a satisfying 'twang', Link released his nocked arrow in a deadly line towards his target.

The boar was dead before it realised that anything was amiss. The arrow had buried itself through its shoulder and into its heart, killing it almost instantly.

The power of a Royal Bow was not to be underestimated, nor understated; the strength required to draw it meant that muscle, sinew and even bone presented far too little of a challenge to penetrate, much to the boar's detriment. Or perhaps it was a benefit, considering that such a merciful ending meant that it had no time to suffer, before it perished.

Link gave himself a wan smile. He was no stranger to hunting for food, nor to killing, yet every time he took a life, he could not help but feel sorrow. Even Yiga Clansmen were not entirely exempt from this, although the malice and violence they willingly wrought certainly alleviated most of his guilt. In fact, the only things he had ever felt _true_ joy in killing had been Ganon itself, and its Blights. It seemed that this melancholy did not extend to abominations, especially those responsible for the deaths of those he loved.

With a sigh, Link rose from his position in the shade of a great tree, before approaching his quarry. Although his shot was impressive, he knew that, even with his current handicap, it was certainly not a feat that deserved to be immortalised in legend. He chuckled at the mental image of Revali's condescending indignation if he had tried to glorify such a minor feat. Although, maybe it would be worth doing, if not just to irritate him.

Revali needed to take that stick out of his arse, anyway.

The familiar pang of sorrow at his fellow Champions' absence was lessening. Perhaps the inevitability of their return had begun to give Link hope. And, their return _was_ inevitable. Link would ensure it.

His mood lighter, he dressed the boar and removed some of the more tender meat, before completing the trek back towards Rhoam's hut. It really had been rather convenient, to just stumble across it by chance. However, Link was not about to look the gift horse in the mouth.

The fresh water he had collected was stored in a decently sized, wooden bucket which was slung over his shoulder with little care, causing its contents to slosh over Link's clothes. Biting back a curse, a now _slightly_ moist Link walked back towards his charge, taking care to not spill any more of the now noticeably less full pail.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally emerging into the clearing containing the hut, Link stepped around the building, and bore witness to a sight he would cherish for the rest of his days:

Mipha was stood with her back to him. Evidently, she had awoken during his journey. He hoped that she hadn't been too worried by his sudden absence...

She was performing what Link assumed to be some kind of Zora stretching exercise, as she contorted her body in motions that would be nigh-impossible for a Hylian to replicate. The fins on her arms were flaring and relaxing in a mesmerising synchronicity, as her entire body seemed to undulate, not unlike how it did when she was swimming. Moreover, her hands were bathed in the calming blue glow of her Grace, and every movement left haunting blue trails in their wake, before the light slowly fizzled out.

To Link, Mipha looked almost as if she was performing an esoteric dance; something personal, that he did not have permission to intrude upon...

Despite this possible breach of privacy, Link stood, spellbound, as Mipha managed to utterly captivate an audience she was not even aware she possessed. Even as much as he realised this, Link found himself incapable of slinking away, too relieved in this display of her beauty and health after his distressing dream.

After a long moment of staring, and pining, and reassurance, Link came back to himself with a jolt. Embarrassed by his own lack of discipline, he sought to sneak away, and approach her from a more agreeable angle.

Of course, of all of the possible moments for Link's famed stealth to fail him, it had to pick that one. 

As he turned away to wait (and hide) behind the log house, the heavy pail he was carrying banged into his leg, causing him to stumble, and, before he could correct himself, the lopsided weight caused him to tumble to the ground in a pratfall, the likes of which young Sidon would undoubtedly have found hysterical.

Come to think of it, present Sidon would have probably also found it amusing, although his reaction would likely be slightly less bombastic.

It took his remarkable quick thinking and honed reactions to save the bucket from being spilled completely and invalidating his trip to the springs. He cursed his decision to leave the Slate with Mipha, even as much as it was certainly the best decision for her sake.

His decision to leave the Slate had been one borne out of concern. After all, she had yet to let it out of her sight for even a moment. If she were to wake, and both himself and the Slate upon which was her only known connection to her past were missing then...

Well, he'd probably panic too. 

Despite how easy it was to rely on the Slate, to take its many utilities for granted, it was certainly not worth risking Mipha's wellbeing over. Still, for the inconvenience it had caused him, he did not have to be _happy_ with the alternative measures he'd been forced to take.

Nor did he have to be happy with the outcome either, he thought, grumpily, his sodden clothing coming to mind.

Naturally, Mipha heard Link's undignified yelp, and snapped around with the tenacity of an agitated cobra.

Her frantic eyes softened considerably when she recognised her missing companion. It seemed that she had no concern for his unexpected intrusion, much to his relief. She then moved her gaze to the great pail he had been lugging around, and the water sloshing around within it. After going many hours without, the sight of fresh water was most appealing to her, he assumed.

After a few moments, Mipha noticed that her companion still hadn't risen from his place on the grassy ground. Mipha was mildly concerned that he may have concussed himself, or perhaps suffered some other equally embarrassing or incapacitating injury, before he sat up and gave a bashful wave.

Not really sure how to approach this awkward moment, and save face after a less than stellar display of his dexterity, Link simply tried to ignore the incident and hope that his intrusion, and subsequent clumsy blunder, hadn't cost him too much dignity. With as forced of a casual tone as he could muster, he said;  
''Uhh... I take it you read my letter?''

Mipha just sighed in exasperation, to hide her amusement at his misfortune.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taking advantage of Mipha's proximity, for his peace of mind, Link gave her a thorough visual inspection. His disarming persona aside, he still fought to shake off the phantom worries, left over from his nightmare.

Link noticed just how much she must have been craving water; her scales had lost the lustrous sheen they had possessed the evening before, and her gills were slightly flared, their protrusion making them far more noticeable than normal. Given how much Link stared at her, the difference was quite obvious...

Catching himself, he realised just how easily that sentiment could be interpreted as ominous.

Link digressed. Close observation was a necessary evil in order to ensure that she was well.

~~To ensure that he hadn't committed an affront against nature and sentience by bringing her back.~~

At least, that's what his paranoia and obsessive behaviour were telling him to tell himself... 

Although his observations most certainly _were_ for her benefit, he attempted to reason, his argument felt hollow, even to himself. Perhaps he should simply stop trying to pretend to himself that he had no considerable personal investment in her health and recovery.

His obsession towards Mipha left a sour taste in his mouth, worse than that of expired milk, as he found it harder and harder to justify his deception, even to himself. 

''Yeah, ok. It _is_ kinda creepy.'' He finally admitted, admonished, mumbling below Mipha's earshot. He felt strangely relieved by his admittance. With a sigh, Link's shoulders relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted.

Well, it's true that he wasn't having to drag the pail anymore, but he was referring to a 'weight' of the more metaphorical sense. Perhaps acknowledging his unhealthy behaviours was a better option than ignoring them, and waiting for them to bite him in the arse, despite his noble intentions.

With a huff to clear his head, he focussed himself back to his primary, and most critical task: Mipha's comfort and safety.

He wondered how she had slept that night: Zora usually preferred to sleep in water, if given the choice. They _could_ make do on land if any safe, or clean water was unavailable, as it was in their current situation, but it tended to leave them dehydrated, and often irritable as a result.

Mipha had always seemed to be the exception to that rule, in the past (and before him now), as had been expected and demanded of her station. Although, perhaps she _had been_ irritated, but had always done an excellent job of hiding it to Link, and others, for their benefit. He wouldn't be surprised.

He seemed to recall the constant stress Mipha had been under, always weighed down and stifled by the expectations and demands of her position. She had never explicitly told him as such, but Link liked to think that he knew her well enough to read between the lines of her words and actions.

He remembered that Mipha had treated Vah Ruta as her sanctuary, and she was often eager to escape to the automaton when the stresses became too much to bear. To where there were no expectations, no duties, no stuffy councillors to appease... To where she did not have to be Princess Mipha, Champion of the Zora.

Where she could just be _Mipha._

It was rather ironic that her sanctuary, the space where she felt safest above all, and allowed to be herself was where she...

_Oh._

Link shook his head, fiercely, to rid himself of _yet another_ morbid tangent.

Mipha had yet to respond to his hail verbally, yet he did not let that dissuade him from continuing to talk.

''Anyway... That water is yours to do with as you please.'' Noticing her about to interject, he cut her off with a wave. ''Don't worry about me, I had a drink at the spring. After we've had breakfast, we can go to a nearby pond and give you some time to prepare before we set out for the day.'' 

Mipha was not too happy about being interrupted, but at least her concerns for her companion's thirst were unfounded. After all, if this was to be a mutually beneficial relationship, she needed to make sure that he was looking after himself. 

And, if he wasn't, then she'd have to look after him.

Indeed, he wouldn't be able to help her if he keeled over, dead. She reasoned that would be a woefully tragic fate to befall him, given his seemingly boundless generosity. Furthermore, he seemed to be extremely attuned to the needs of a Zora, as he had proven once again... It would be the _least_ she could do to attempt to be attuned to his, as well. 

As Mipha busied herself with the bucket, Link decided to busy himself with preparing their food.

He walked to where he was storing some of his more perishable foods, and retrieved the fish that Mipha had gifted him the previous afternoon, as well as a salmon fillet he had been saving for the occasion. Hopefully, he would be able to fall into a working meditation, whilst he prepared their food, which would be sufficient to keep his mind off of any morose topics, at least for a while.

Link sighed, with apprehension and anticipation; they had quite the day ahead of them.

Willing his mask back into place, he smiled. He could barely wait to get started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, funny story guys.
> 
> Turns out that aviatordame and I live literally less than 2 miles away from each other.
> 
> We even go to the same University.
> 
> So that's neat.
> 
> I welcome any comments/questions.


	6. Insatiable Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again.
> 
> I'm sorry this is overdue. Life came and blindsided me again. 
> 
> I won't make any promises about future upload schedules. Especially seeing as this is actually the last chapter I had fully completed before I started uploading. Even then, however, _much_ of it has been re-written or edited so... yeah.
> 
> On the bright side, I thought that, after such a long hiatus, it might be nice to drop a double length chapter to update. Also, this takes the series over 100,000 words! Quite the milestone, I must say. Thanks again to everyone who has read this, and stuck around this long.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> Thanks again to aviatordame for beta reading this.

### Chapter 6: Insatiable Curiosity

### 

Exiting out of the hut once more, Link emerged to see Mipha, having quenched her thirst, place the bucket down by the log. Their eyes met, even beneath his ever-present hood, and he gave her a gentle, fond smile, as he took in her radiance. Already, she looked better for having had a drink, which brought Link no small amount of relief.

Link casually ambled up towards her, and presented her with a salmon so well preserved that it could have easily been mistaken for a fresh catch. Mipha eyed him inquisitively.

''I had this just sitting in my food store. Now, I'm not the largest fan of salmon...'' which was technically not a lie, he considered. After all, Link _adored_ the taste of salmon, and many of his favourite seafood dishes included it. However, he knew that, for as much as he liked it, Mipha had loved it even more than he.

''I hope that it's not too presumptuous of me to think that a Zora would like it.'' He then pushed it towards her, with a warm look.

Mipha took the fish with a quiet word of thanks, which did not come close to encapsulating the magnitude of the gratitude she felt towards him. Not only for his generous actions, but also for merely coming back, for not leaving her alone. Still, she did not vocalise what she presumed was obvious relief at his return, for want of not appearing _too_ pitiful. Although she appreciated his assistance more than he could ever know, she still had her dignity and pride to maintain, after all.

Already, her more primal instincts were making themselves known as she took in the scent and appearance of the food now held in her claws. It seemed... Mipha did not know if 'familiar' was the correct word here, since when she compared it to how she felt when chasing her lost memories, it was highly distinct. Yet, despite this, it still felt somehow 'right'. At least, that is if her instincts could be trusted.

The rumbling of her stomach informed her that she was more than ready to break her nightly fast. With a small sigh, Mipha took a tentative bite.

As her fangs pierced through the flesh, and Mipha tasted the meat for first time, something within her awoke in joy, as her eyes widened in surprise. Once she'd moved past the salt and other mild seasoning that had been used to preserve the fish, a wonderful texture and flavour assaulted her tongue. Surprisingly, it was not at all like the fish she'd consumed yesterday. Instead, this meat was far richer, far... 

Mipha took a moment between ravenous bites to consider what the correct descriptor would be.

She eventually settled on 'hearty'. Indeed, this fish was far heartier than anything she could remember tasting before. 

And, she _adored_ it.

Link bit down on a sigh of pleasure, as he watched Mipha rediscover the sublime flavour of salmon. The shock and joy in her eyes as she, somewhat indecorously, wolfed it down, caused a warmth to spread from his heart, that even managed to offset the slight discomfort caused by watching her eat it raw, watching her tear flesh apart with teeth that glinted with a wicked edge.

Truly, she _was_ Sidon's sister, Link mused.

It wasn't that the Zora lacked table manners. In fact, in formal gatherings, they could easily be just as stuffy and perplexingly ritualistic as their noble Hylian counterparts, and _none_ of them had ever been more poised or more dignified than Princess Mipha herself. Link had always considered himself privileged to be able to witness her in environments where she did not feel so pressured to behave in such a way, even as much as watching her ravage her food had always slightly disturbed him. A reminder that, behind her impeccable manners and caring nature, she was a fierce predator.

The juxtaposition still managed to catch him off guard, even now.

Smiling to himself, Link made to walk past her and prepare his own breakfast, having been content to simply watch her rediscover her love of food in silence. Mipha had, somewhat interestingly, hardly taken any time to savour her newfound favourite food, and as he reached her, she placed down her discarded remains with a suddenly remembered poise.

''Well,'' Link chuckled, ''Either you were absolutely famished, or else you seemed to rather enjoy that.'' He smiled, and winked at her, which would have not registered due to his hood, however his mirth was obvious from his tone alone. Mipha was about to let out a hum of contentment, however her self-reprehension caught up with her again, having been reminded of how he'd teased her eating habits the previous day as well.

Of course, there was nothing malicious in his words, she knew that. Furthermore, she could always turn those same accusations on him; he'd been far from the most upright with his own table manners. Still, she found it hard to escape the impression that she should be holding herself to a higher standard; that his lack of formality should not incentivise her to allow her standards to slip.

She pondered that sentiment, and the unease that surrounded it, with an objective curiosity. It would rather seem to fit in with her other impressions of being somehow high-born...

Seeking to salvage what little remained of her dignity, she decided to initiate a conversation:

''Might I ask where one would come across more of that particular specimen?'' She hoped that her approval of his gift was obvious, but not to the point that it seemed too desperate to please. She also found herself hoping that the answer would be accessible to them, for frankly obvious reasons.

Link was loath to let her down, but did so readily.

''Unfortunately, they are not found on the Plateau.'' He sighed, practically tasting her disappointment in the air, as she disguised a slump with a roll of her shoulders. Still, he hoped that she had appreciated the treat regardless. It had been somewhat tricky to preserve it in a way that would still leave it palatable to her, without the use of the Slate.

''They tend to inhabit the rivers and lakes of North Western Hyrule.'' Link continued, more for the sake of conversation and politeness than anything else.

Recovering remarkably, Mipha huffed a sigh.

''Ah, that is most unfortunate, then. Still, it was a wonderful treat to indulge in, and you have my deepest gratitude for gifting it to me.'' As she said that, however, something struck out at her. From his words, she'd gathered that he was implying that salmon were not native to the area, and were found in areas far from their current location.

In that case...

Mipha did not hear Link humbly accepting and waving off her gratitude, as a revelation clicked into place in her mind. And with her realisation came a sudden spike of unease, crawling from her chest.

She'd caught him in a lie.

Cutting across him, with what she hoped was a measure of politeness and casualness that she was not sure reflected her mood, she asked him a rather direct question.

''One moment.'' She interrupted, with a raised hand, and he fell silent. ''Yesterday, you told me that you had no way of preserving the fish you gave to me, when we first met.'' She scrutinised him for his response.

_Oh shit._

Link instantly froze, and darted his eyes back towards hers, which were piercing into his own unnervingly, and unerringly. He swallowed a gulp of trepidation as she fixed her unblinking gaze on him. Gods above, he _hated_ it when she looked at him like that, like she could see right through him, as he desperately fought to not break out into a cold sweat or shivers.

Still, he refused to speak, as Mipha bore into him with her eyes, and internally, Link panicked. _Surely_ she'd figure out that he was lying if he stayed quiet any longer, he needed to say something, _anything,_ lest she lose faith in him, and if she left him, ran away, then he wouldn't be able to protect her, and he _needed to protect her, he couldn't let her die again..._

Never in Link's life had he been more grateful to sneeze. The sudden jolt managed to startle him out of his decaying spiral, and allowed him the chance to reconfigure his thought process, without the incessant worries that plagued him.

Making a great show of wiping his nose with his sleeve, he turned back to Mipha, and apologised. Clearly, his sneeze had also managed to surprise her, as she blinked, and Link prayed that this shock could grant him some leeway, as thankful as he was to deflect the weight of her scrutiny for just a moment.

''Ah yes, well...'' Link was well known for his ability to think quickly to resolve dire situations, but he was less certain that he would be able to do so in a purely social setting. Nevertheless, he needed to try.

''Yesterday, I hadn't been planning to come back to my hut.'' He lied brazenly. He hoped that, between his hood obscuring his face, his shifting eyes and other tells, his somewhat even, nonchalant tone would sell his act.

Mipha was somewhat taken aback by his declaration, as she enquired further, understandably unconvinced.

''Oh, yes,'' Link continued, doubling down on his claim. ''Instead, I was going to wander around the Plateau, and investigate some of the Shrines near to where we met.'' He cast an arm in the general direction of the Plateau Tower, and Mipha's gaze followed. Whilst her gaze was averted, he struck again.

''And besides, it's hardly as if any surface I found to sleep on could have been less comfortable than the bed in there.'' He chuckled disarmingly, and Mipha found herself unable to suppress a mirthful huff in agreement, which gratified Link.

Mipha thought about that, about what he was claiming, and the tension and arousal began to slowly seep from her muscles. She wasn't entirely sure if he was telling the truth, or, at least, the full truth, but still, it was not as if she could verify his plans as false. Perhaps there was far more around this Plateau that he knew of that she did not, that would allow him to take such actions...

Yes, she reasoned. Surely that was more reasonable, more likely, than if he had instead blatantly lied to her for seemingly no reason, nor benefit.

Seeing that Mipha had been placated, Link continued past her to his fire pit, and the cauldron that rested upon it, calling over his shoulder.

''I hope you don't mind if I start to prepare my own food?''

Of course, Mipha did not. She placed herself back down upon the log, wincing at the lingering ache in her back, as she watched her companion go about preparing his meal. She hoped he'd be amenable to conversation as he did so, since there were still a great number of questions she found herself wanting to ask.

Still, she endeavoured to wait until he had at least begun to cook; surely he was just as hungry as she had been, and it would be rather rude to distract him from satiating himself. So, with a small sigh, she watched with undisguised intrigue as he left the meat and fish by the pot, before vanishing to, presumably, gather more supplies.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once he was out of eyeshot, Link heaved an enormous sigh, and slumped over, as a wave of relief crashed over him. Thankful that Mipha had bought his ruse, he returned to his storage cupboard and retrieved a few Spicy Peppers to season of his meat. He already had a good idea of what to cook; it seemed somehow poetic that his first true meal he shared with Mipha would also be the first true meal he'd cooked for himself, since awakening.

He gave another silent thanks to the spirit of King Rhoam. For all of the quiet animosity he'd held for the King, before the Calamity, for his treatment of Zelda, Rhoam had at least acknowledged his mistakes and attempted to atone for them. 

Also, he had a very good taste in food, as one might expect from a monarch. Him subtly _encouraging_ Link to re-discover the recipe for his lauded 'Spicy Meat and Seafood Fry' had been very beneficial, to both his internal body temperature whilst scaling Mount Hylia, as well as his taste buds.

Hopefully Mipha would feel similarly. Perhaps he could even convince her of the benefits of cooked fish, before she found herself too ingrained in the habit of eating them raw?

Hmm. Best to not get too optimistic, there, Link lamented. Despite that, he still very much looked forwards to the idea of cooking for her regularly. There was an old adage about women wooing their husbands through their culinary skills. It appealed to Link's sense of humour to try to invert that particular concept.

~~He supposed that he'd cooked for Zelda often enough...~~

Returning to the logs, Link cut open the peppers, and ignited the fire beneath the pot, in order to begin sautéing them. With a quick glance towards Mipha, who seemed to be keeping mostly to herself, Link pulled the bass out of his cloak, and sliced it open, beginning the tedious task of filleting it.

Lacking any true food knife, he was instead forced to use his sword. Apparently Rhoam had had no need for one either, which was understandable when Link remembered that he was dead, and therefore probably did not require sustenance, and Link had not thought to bring one, either. A minor oversight on his part.

He wondered if the Master Sword would have had any qualms about being used to prepare food. But then, considering the rumours surrounding the previous heroes' _liberal_ usage of the weapon, he somehow doubted it.

In Link's humble opinion, it took a special type of person to use the most powerful and legendary sword known to exist as a lawnmower.

But then, what did he know? Perhaps that was merely their own way of rebelling against their own miserable, _Divine_ Fate. He supposed, if that was the case, he would hardly begrudge them that.

But, he no longer possessed the Master Sword, much less had any intention to even lay eye upon it again, so he supposed that, ultimately, the question was pointless. It was fun to consider though, if only for the sake of spite.

Nevertheless, he'd at least had the good sense to sanitise the blade with water and fire beforehand; it really wouldn't do to get Bokoblin guts in his meal.

Incidentally, Link _had_ eaten Bokoblin guts once, out of sheer desperation. It was not an experience he sought to repeat, let alone ever force upon his dearest Zora.

Once he'd finished preparing his fish, he added it and the boar meat to the pan, and watched it start to sizzle. As he fell into the familiar rhythms of cooking and preparing food, Link allowed his mind to wander to more mundane topics, until he was startled back into focus by Mipha.

She'd been watching him silently prepare his food with a passive interest, but she found that she'd endured silence for quite long enough.

''May I as what you are cooking?'' Her voice was light, which matched the innocence of her question. It seemed like a benign enough topic to initiate a conversation, by any regard.

''Oh,'' Link replied. ''Of course. This is called a 'Spicy Meat and Seafood Fry.' The name is, uh, rather self-explanatory.'' He winked.

Mipha hummed non-committally. It was, after all, only a polite way to break the silence that had overtaken them.

Link was eager to elaborate. ''I'm cooking it because there are some areas on the Plateau where the temperature can get rather frigid.'' He sent an obvious, side-eyed glance at her, which he'd intended to be somewhat subtle. Still, so long as he got the message across... ''This meal grants its consumer a small measure of resistance to the cold.'' Mipha silently filed away that information for future reference. Still, she had other priorities at the moment.

''How fascinating...'' Mipha mused, aloud. ''May I ask where you learned to create it?''

Given her own predilection to consume her food raw, she thought it understandable that the topic of preparing meats by cooking them to be rather foreign to her. Still, she supposed that it was interesting enough, not only for the insight into the differences of preferences between their species, but also as possibly an entrée into learning about her companion's background.

After all, in all of their interactions, Mipha believed that she'd gathered a good idea of his personality. Yet, despite that, she knew practically nothing about him, not even his name. She resolved herself to use this opportunity to remedy that.

Link was taken aback by her curiosity, having clearly not expected her to ask such a question. After a short pause, he answered.

''A... _friend_ taught me how.'' He settled on, having taken care with his wording, but did not want to offer any more, much to Mipha's frustration when nothing more was forthcoming.

''Well, what was this 'friend' like?'' Mipha enquired, seeking to push though this awkward block her companion seemed to be creating with his suddenly closed body language.

''He's been dead a while.'' He replied, and Mipha's enthusiasm was immediately curbed by his sombre tone.

''Oh, my condolences.'' She back-pedalled, worried he'd been saddened, berating herself for her lack of consideration, as her heart seemed to sink with the evidence of his grief.

Despite her curiosity, she found herself unable to find any way to really ignite a social conversation. After her first unfortunate attempt, she found herself tip-toeing around, for want of not stumbling across another sensitive topic. He was always polite with her, however he did not seem to be in the mood to support her endeavours to initiate a conversation about his past.

Mipha eventually found herself frustrated, and was almost on the brink of discarding her attempts of small talk entirely. She'd been hoping to create a conversation wherein she could lead herself to the topic of his identity naturally, as opposed to just asking him out of the blue. She could not explain why, yet the concept of just asking, without sufficient build up, just seemed slightly repulsive to her. Not to the point that she would not do it, but to the point where it would feel awkward to do so.

In her current fragile, vulnerable state, she found herself unwilling to take the risk, at least until she had gained a measure of self-confidence. For that, she recognised that the best remedy would be time, which was something that she knew they had in abundance. Despite her growing desire for answers about herself, she rationalised that there was no pressing time constraint to satisfy her curiosity about him.

If his words were to be believed, neither of them were leaving the Plateau in any great hurry.

As she was about to muster one final attempt to probe into his past, Mipha inhaled, but came up short as an unpleasant sting welled up in her sinuses.

Recoiling away with a jolt, Mipha's breath came out in short bursts, as she tried to clear her throat and rid herself of the unpleasant odour that had wafted from the cooking pot. As she did, her companion immediately noticed her flinch, and was upon her in a moment, possibly fearing for some kind of injury.

As Mipha rose, she raised a hand to compose herself, as well as him, before moving away from the range of the scent.

''My apologies,'' She murmured, ''But I am finding those peppers most unpleasant.''

Link sniffed, deeply, and missed Mipha's wince at his action. He could indeed smell the roasting peppers, although they were overpowered by the scent of the cooking meat. He turned back to Mipha in bewilderment. He wasn't aware of her having any allergies or intolerances to food. At least, Dorephan had never mentioned as much. Or, maybe it was something shared by all Zora?

He didn't know what to make of that. From what he knew, the Zora, whilst mostly carnivorous, were capable of ingesting vegetables and fruits, although they actually tended to share Hylians' opinions on cooking them, unlike in the case of their fish.

However, he realised that, in all of his time in the Domain, he'd never been witness to _any_ Spicy peppers. Furthermore, even spicy meats, such as Sizzlefin Trout, had been an extreme rarity.

''Are the Zora not capable of ingesting spice?'' He wondered aloud.

Mipha certainly thought not, if her response to the mere scent of peppers was any indication. Although, as she thought on the issue, the answer suddenly came to her, in a belated flash of knowledge.

Uncooked peppers were so overbearingly spicy that most Hylians found them difficult to eat raw. For Zora, however, this problem was magnified tenfold. Zora were so sensitive to the toxins present that consuming a raw pepper far exceeded the realm of unpleasant, to border on downright intolerable. _Fortunately,_ however, sautéing the peppers first managed to bring down the pain threshold induced from 'agonising' to merely 'strongly unpleasant'.

Mipha let out a huff at her own internal dialogue's dry commentary. Clearly, her companion was already rubbing off on her. Unfortunately, her exaggerated inhalation caused more of the offending spice to invade her olfactory receptors, and she winced in displeasure.

Yet, despite the comparative reduction in unpleasantness, eating peppers, even cooked, was still not a favourite past-time of her people. It seemed that, _somehow,_ regardless of her amnesia, she had been afforded this obscure fact about her biology, much to her confused exasperation. Why she couldn't have been granted more relevant information was not only perplexing, but vexing as well.

Still, she supposed that she should not be too picky, with what she could remember. Any indication that she had a past that could still be discovered should be received favourably. Besides, the knowledge that she _could_ eat them was slightly relieving, if only because it was likely a better alternative than hypothermia and frostbite.

It wasn't as if she would enjoy it, though.

Even so, she grumbled, she shouldn't resent him for his choice in food. At least, as long as he didn't resent her decision to stay well, well away from it. She would continue to do so for as long as it remained a viable option to her.

Despite her resolve, she could not quash the feeling of foreboding that arose within her. She had the most disquieting premonition that, sooner or later, she would be forced to attempt to eat it. Her companion's warning about frigid temperatures was taking an almost prophetic tone as it replayed in her memory. She shuddered involuntarily; she desperately hoped that it would not come to that, for the sake of her poor tongue.

Link would have taken Mipha's expeditious retreat as answer to his question, if she hadn't felt to correct him on his assumption. Still, her behaviour alone, not to mention the irritation of her eyes, told a rather obvious story, which served to throw a wrench in Link's mental plan.

He knew that the Zora struggled with extreme cold more than Hylians did, as a result of their differing physiology. He had been hoping that ingesting peppers to grant resistance to the cold would have, in tandem with other measures, helped Mipha endure the environment of Mt Hylia. If Mipha was not capable, or willing to eat anything with peppers in it, then he might have a slight problem...

No matter, he sighed. He _could_ work around it...

Hopefully.

With that, Link watched as Mipha maintained a healthy distance upwind of his pot, and returned to his meal.

He was preparing far too much for even his own voracious appetite to comfortably consume in one sitting, since he'd been hoping to convince her to take a portion too. Resurrection had left him rather hungry, after all, and he did not think that Mipha would have been satisfied with a single fillet of salmon. 

Ah well, he considered. At least he'd be able to introduce her to the Slate's ability to perfectly store and preserve items. Maybe he could indulge her with a demonstration, once he'd finished his own meal?

It should serve to be interesting, at any rate...

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Perhaps, Link grimaced, going into such excruciating detail with the Sheikah Slate's more mystical abilities had been a mistake.

Then again, the way Mipha's entire face had lit up when he'd explained the runes and their applications last night had been utterly adorable. Her rapturous attention and barely concealed intrigue had left Link with a warm anxiety that flittered in his stomach. It had mirrored the excitement and wonder that Link himself had felt when he discovered and unlocked each respective rune.

After all, the ability to just summon a pillar of ice, or just spontaneously explode things, was _really cool._ Cryonis puns notwithstanding.

Link was glad that Mipha had shared his interest, and agreed with him.

He had made a mental note to regale her with the more _inventive_ ways he had utilised the Slate in his adventures at a later date. Surely, he couldn't tell her now without inviting far too much scrutiny to his claims of merely being an excessively well informed traveller, with a suspiciously specific and convenient solution to many of Mipha's issues.

He hoped that his most recent 'convenient solution' would not come across as too uncanny.

After finishing his portion, and demonstrating how to convert items into information that could be stored within the Slate to be retrieved later, Link had, once again, retreated into the hut, to Mipha's growing perplexity.

Returning to her side with a clothed bundle in his arms, he presented it to Mipha, for her appraisal.

Curiosity piqued, Mipha accepted the item, and removed the covering with notable care, folding it and placing it back into Link's arms, before inspecting her gift.

Despite Mipha's shocking display of brutality and pragmatism the previous day, Link had been uneasy with the idea of leaving Mipha unarmed any longer. Therefore, he had bestowed upon her a simple Traveller's Spear. It was a rudimentary, yet rugged, design, offering functionality over any form; a wooden shaft, topped with an iron head than Link had ensured was of acceptable quality, balance and sharpness well in advance.

It had been a deliberate choice not to gift it to her immediately upon her awakening. Link recalled how Rhoam had rather insistently encouraged him to take the Woodcutter's Axe lying near his campfire, and how having access to a weapon, no matter how non-optimal, had reassured him to adventure off on his own. Otherwise, with how confused, overwhelmed, and _lost_ he had been after waking up, well...

It would have been a challenge for him to willingly abandon a seemingly benevolent neighbour, in a world that he knew was unfamiliar and hostile.

Link had wanted to keep Mipha close to him, keep her where he could always protect her if so required. The most logical way to achieve this had been to present himself as someone she could trust, someone willing to support her, someone willing to become an active guide and protector to her, whilst she was so vulnerable. He'd been secretly overjoyed when Mipha had accepted his offer, not to mention relieved.

Of course, even despite his best efforts and intentions, this decision had come terrifyingly close to backfiring.

He would not allow such an oversight to threaten her safety again.

He span a story that involved finding the spear in the abandoned garrisons beneath the Plateau (which was true, albeit embellished slightly) and declared that it would be of much better use in her hands than collecting dust in the cupboard. If Mipha had any suspicions about him needing a backup weapon, when he possessed a blade of such obvious prestige and quality, she did not voice them.

Mipha had needed no convincing to accept it, which pleased Link, yet did not surprise him. After all, he knew how much Mipha loathed feeling useless, and acting as a dependant. Her behaviour in the lead up to him defeating the Lynel of Ploymus Mountain a century ago indicated as such.

For her part, Mipha was remarkably relieved to be granted a more civilised means of defending herself, and utterly humbled by the amount of trust her companion had showed in giving it to her.

Paying half-attention to him rambling on about where he had come across the weapon, Mipha instinctively found herself falling into a defensive stance. The weapon felt natural in her hands, as she gave it an experimental twirl and thrust, her muscles moving into patterns that she seemed to recognise.

As she moved, something within her awoke; a glee as she moved through a very basic kata. Mipha paused to reflect as she recognised the feeling as excitement. Excitement at the prospect of using this weapon, of _proving_ her ability to defend herself and defend her partner. And, though she did not relish the prospect of being _forced_ into an encounter in which she'd have to do so, and the violence and bloodshed that would entail, she found herself notably eager to discover exactly what she was capable of with it.

Link noticed Mipha's increasing restlessness, before recognising it for what it truly was:

Mipha wanted to spar. 

Link thought his heart might burst with joy at the opportunity to dance with her once again.

Of course, she did not ask him outright, but he could easily tell from how her fingers twitched around the shaft of the weapon, how her gaze flickered to him, then back to her arms. He smirked at her, struggling to contain his own rising anticipation.

In a voice that belied just how excited he was, he addressed her in a conspiratorial tone.

''I suppose it would be prudent of me to assess your abilities with it, eh?'' The offer, and the challenge, were easily parsed from his tone. Mipha found her pulse already racing, which shocked her. They hadn't even started yet!

Link's reason for doing so was not entirely due to indulgence, however. There was a pressing underlying desire to determine her capabilities, so that in the event of future confrontations, he could have confidence in her ability to hold her own. He knew that she had retained her fighter's instinct, as well as a sharp memory for the finer points of combat theory, but knowing the theory behind an action, and putting it into practice in a life-or-death scenario, were two very different things...

Still, if his own experience was evidence, she shouldn't have too much trouble rediscovering her skill.

Taking a position across from her, Link made a great show of drawing his sword, the blade singing as it left its sheath. As he did so, he noticed a twitch in her face; a minute flinch she had attempted to mask.

Link winced. She'd likely just been forcibly reminded of what had occurred the last time he'd drawn his sword. He lowered his blade, slowly, its tip resting on the grassy ground.

''I hope you know that I would _never_ hurt you, Mipha.'' He spoke, softly. He gazed at her face imploringly, hoping to discern her current state. 

It was so, so easy to forget that, to those not as desensitised to violence and death as himself, he could be astonishingly brutal, and vicious. Of course, violence was usually a brutal and vicious affair, but... 

Link had a talent for it.

''And, I trust that you would _never_ hurt me, either.'' He kept his tone solemn, and serious, hoping that the weight of his declaration, his _vow,_ would be apparent.  
''And besides, even if you did, I'm sure that you could just heal me with that remarkable power.'' He injected humour into his tone, and was gratified to see her smile at his joke.  
''Alternatively, of course, I could go fetch some sticks...'' He mumbled, considering the suggestion and weighing up how viable it would be, as a substitute for live steel. His musings caused him to miss how Mipha's brow had furrowed at his previous statement.

Mipha knew that she was presently severely lacking confidence. She also knew that this was very reasonable, given her _lack_ of knowledge and experience. Unfortunately, this issue caused her no small amount of doubt, that she was forced to constantly battle with, lest her indecision overcome her.

Truthfully, she doubted herself. She doubted her ability to stand up to this man in combat, after his ferociously efficient display against the Bokoblins. Even despite his attempts to reassure her, the idea of facing him in combat with sharp weapons made her uneasy with trepidation. It was not that she thought him _willing_ to harm her, but... There could always be accidents.

On the topic of accidents, if, by whatever miracle, she found herself besting him, and accidentally inflicted a grievous wound upon _him..._

She didn't think that she'd be able to forgive herself. She did not yet know her full capabilities. If she found herself more skilled than she'd expected, if she found herself unable to consciously control herself in combat, if she was overtaken by her instincts as she had been the previous evening, and managed to harm him... It was not an unfounded concern.

Especially seeing that she hadn't been able to even rid herself entirely of sore muscles caused by an awkward sleep. In that case, how could she ever hope to heal a stab wound?

And whilst her companion was showing nothing but the utmost faith in her control, and her healing ability, she... She just couldn't match it. Not when she thought it was so unjustified.

She _wished_ that she could have the same faith in herself that he did in her. She _wished_ that the warmth that his faith filled her with would translate into some tangible confidence. And, she _wished_ so, so dearly, that it could be justified. That she could justify it to him and to herself.

Link could plainly see the reluctance warring on her face. He placed his sword back into its scabbard, and approached her slowly, gently raising a hand to her shoulder when he was close enough.

''My dear, are you alright?'' he crooned, softly.

Mipha considered his question, but every avenue she pursued only served to confound her further. Eventually she was forced to admit to herself, and to him, that she simply did not know. Upon his further probing, she blurted out in shame:

''If I cannot so much as heal myself, then how can I be trusted to heal you?'' The strength of her declaration, and how much it affected her, came as quite the shock to her.

Link was immediately taken aback, jolting in shock. ''Where are you injured?'' he demanded, catching himself before he could become too overbearing and risk distressing her further.

Mipha shook her head, trying to alleviate his concern, noticing how his protectiveness soothed her spirit in a similar manner to her healing power.

''I merely meant that I have been unable to alleviate the ache caused by sleeping on an uncomfortable surface.'' She saw her companion sag in relief at her words, which was rather endearing.

''Oh, that is strange.'' Link replied. ''After all, your performance was exemplary in healing my wound...'' tailing off in contemplation, he added as an afterthought:  
''Perhaps we should return to that later. In the meantime, I still need to see how well you can fight.''

In spite of her worry, Mipha agreed with his reasoning. Mustering her courage, she cast aside her doubts and, in a show of remarkable faith, convinced herself that perhaps this man was skilled enough that she could trust his assessment that neither would hurt the other.

Instead, Mipha insisted that their spar occur with some safety measures, which Link was very happy to acquiesce to. Link agreed to not withdraw his blade from its sheath, and Mipha re-wrapped the head of her spear in the cloth it had come with. Neither measure was ideal, but it was a fair enough compromise for the both of them.

As they stood across from each other, poised to begin, Mipha found that the excitement was building within her again. Her pulse began thudding in her ears, as the blood rushed through her veins. Her breathing quickened and deepened in anticipation, as she awaited his signal...

And then, it began.

Initially, they both circled each other, neither willing to approach. Still, Mipha knew that in a battle of a sword against a spear, she had an enormous advantage in range. Yet, she knew that it would be beyond foolish to underestimate this opponent.

Speaking of him, he seemed content to let her approach, possibly hoping to bait her into making a mistake, into over-extending. Mipha conceded that it was tactically sound. Besides, if this was to be an assessment of her skill, then she supposed that it would fall to her to take the initiative.

She made a cautious, probing thrust, and he hopped away from her, out of measure, smirking cheekily. Unperturbed, Mipha advanced, and he matched her with another step away, seeking to loop around her. Mipha noticed this, and cut him off, shepherding him back towards the wall of the hut, seeking to corner him, prowling towards him, hunting him with the confidence of a shark, and the playfulness of a dolphin. Her pulse raced in elation.

With an incline of his head, and a nod of approval, he changed his stance, and stopped giving ground. The sudden change caused Mipha to jolt, and pause perhaps _too_ respectfully, but he did not look to capitalise on her brief hesitance.

With another tentative thrust, she poked at her opponent's defences. Her weapon was deflected with a flick of his sword, sliding it along the shaft of her spear, forcing it away from his body. Mipha withdrew before he could seek to counter-attack, and studied his stance. Beneath his hood, she could see him smiling at her indulgently and teasingly.

Well. She supposed that she'd have to try a little bit harder, then.

With a twitch, Mipha threw a feinted high thrust, before twirling the spear in her hands and reversing the blade's direction, now coming at him from below. It shocked her how fluid and effortless the movement was; evidently this was a manoeuvre that had been practised repeatedly and endlessly, until it had become second nature to her.

Despite the startling speed of her attack, which Link would genuinely admit had caught him off guard, he managed to discern her true intentions, and caught the thrust on his blade. He internally huffed a sigh; it was only the fact that he had recognised the pattern from memory that had saved him. Truly, her skill had hardly deteriorated at all.

Mipha's spear skittered along his sword similarly to his previous parry, when she did something that he had not been expecting.

Mipha charged in, and Link was forced to deflect her spear further to attempt to halt her approach. He made a basic riposte, twisting his arm in attempt to disarm her, however Mipha had already anchored her spear in the lock, as she moved right next to him. This was her mistake, actually; Link knew that he would easily be able to overpower her in a direct contest of strength, without the leverage of her spear. Perhaps, in time, Mipha would come to regain her lost strength, but, for the moment at least, Link was far stronger.

As she struggled against him, Mipha's arms twisted. Link recognised it as a trident technique; indeed, if his blade had been trapped between the prongs of a trident, it would have disarmed him quite handily.

Unfortunately for Mipha, she was wielding a spear.

Wrenching away, Link had an opening, one a fighter of his calibre could not possibly miss, as Mipha reeled from a lack of resistance to her twist. And yet, as he raised his sword up...

His belated strike was wild, off target, and easily intercepted. Mipha used this advantage to step inside his guard, and sweep away his standing leg with the butt of her spear, sending Link sprawling onto the ground.

Mipha's victory came at great surprise to her, for a number of reasons. However, any elation was short lived, for she knew that she had prevailed not due to her own skill, but rather due to her opponent showing far too much restraint. 

If the Zora possessed eyebrows, Link was sure that Mipha's would be raised in a condescending manner. Since she had borne witness to how efficiently he dispatched the Bokoblins the previous day, his comparatively sluggish movements were unsettling, and far too easy to exploit. Deep down, Mipha silently appreciated that her companion was not particularly keen on turning the full brunt of his lethality on her, although the irritation she felt at being coddled by him was more than evident in the silent rebuke she sent his way.

Staring down the end of the spear he had just gifted away, Link chuckled, then winced as he attempted to rise, only for the previous night's lack of comfort, as well as the aches of dragging a sizeable pail around the Plateau like an impulsive moron, made themselves intimately known in the muscles of his neck and shoulders.

Stretching his arms, with an ominous creak that did not bode well for his mobility in later years, Link addressed his charge.

''Well, my dear, it seems that your expertise in spear combat extends to the practical aspect, as well as the theoretical. How interesting...'' He scratched at his chin, as though he'd entered into a state of deep contemplation. In actuality, Link would have been far more surprised, and worried, had she not retained her combat ability. With his assessment concluded, he breathed a sigh of relief, and the tension he unknowingly kept in his posture began to dissipate.

Mipha's irritation at being underestimated was beginning to give way to anger, an emotion that was almost alien to the normally serene princess.

''We both know that you are far more skilled than that pathetic display would indicate. The corpses of three Bokoblins can attest to that. Is there any esoteric reason you choose to obfuscate your skill, or are you merely doing so in order to patronise me?''

The sheer vitriol in her words astounded both of them. Mipha, having recovered from her outburst was shocked and partially ashamed at her actions, however she could not deny the irritation that led her there, as well as her desire to hear his explanation.

Link raised his hands in a placating gesture. ''It was not my intention to upset you, my dear, but neither was it my intention to harm you. I wanted to make an assessment of your abilities, in order to judge how capable you are of protecting yourself...''

Mipha let out a small huff, but remained silent.

''In my judgement, I do not think that any monster upon this Plateau would be a match for you in combat. A fact I am most relieved to admit, for it takes a lot of worry off my shoulders.''

Mipha relaxed slightly at that.

''Now,'' continued Link, ''Perhaps we should set out to the pond.'' Hopefully the water would soothe away her ire as well as her scales, which would eventually start to chafe, if left dehydrated.

With a chuckle and a wave, her companion called her over. Whilst the bucket was a thoughtful gesture, it was not a substitute for immersing oneself fully, and both Mipha and her companion evidently knew that. With a sigh, Mipha rose, grabbed her new spear, and followed the man as he led her to the promised pond.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the way back towards their shared accommodation, having taken great advantage of the water and feeling thoroughly refreshed, Mipha was struck once again by the realisation that she did not yet know her companion's name. Shocked by how she'd allowed it to slip her mind, _again,_ she resolved to take advantage of the current silence and lack of distractions to just ask him directly, lest he deflect the conversation away once more.

After everything else that had occurred that morning, Mipha found her rising ire overpowering any social anxieties that might have otherwise plagued her.

His reaction was surprised, as if he genuinely was taken aback at the fact.

''Has it truly never come up?'' he asked.

Mipha's silence indicated that it had not, in fact, 'come up'.

''Well, I suppose it's of no great import, otherwise I would have told you by now.'' Link grinned in an attempt to disarm her, but internally he was panicking; he was most certainly _not_ ready for this line of questioning, and was doing his best to throw off his too curious charge.

Mipha was not surprised when the man attempted to deflect her question. Almost all attempts to pry into his background had been met with diversions, tangents or outright changing the subject. Beyond the bare minimum information he had willingly divulged, trying to learn any more was as annoying as shedding scales, and far less fruitful too.

Perhaps a part of her was thankful that he did not give her a verbal autobiography, for highlighting the fact that her memories of her life experiences were almost completely non-existent with the contrast of his own detailed life story would have likely been a source of jealousy on her part, no matter how inappropriate such a response was. However, another part of her was quickly becoming fed up with his infuriating habit of evasion.

In the silent, internal war raging between different parts of Mipha's psyche, eventually her curiosity was victorious. From political experience drilled into her subconscious, Mipha realised that instead of attempting to force an answer from him, which would likely result in him clamming up, she should attempt to word her request in a way that would be almost impossible to refuse.

Mipha finally replied, in a voice that was almost too innocent:

''Surely I should at least know the name of the man who took it upon himself to care _so diligently_ for me.'' The inflection in her voice was sickeningly sweet. Her words had been chosen to slip past his guard, instead of blunt-forcing their way through.

In many aspects, her style of politicking was similar to her style of combat. After all, in spear fighting, brute strength was not always an effective strategy. Instead, when Mipha fought, she sought to turn away an opponent's strength like a river deflecting water around a rock, and use precise strikes to slip past their guard, to seep into the cracks, rather than breaking through it.

Perhaps, in years to come, she would eventually gain the physical strength and emotional gravity to force her way through obstacles, but, at the present moment, such a time was still a long way away.

To Mipha's begrudging respect, her words had not completely disarmed him. However, holes had opened on his defence. Now, she only needed to slide through the gaps, and deliver a finishing blow.

''Why, can you imagine if we were to be separated? Whatever could I do, if I did not know how to address or call you?'' She left the implications of her predicament unsaid. After all, he would surely be able to construe an infinite number of scenarios himself. Mipha had managed to strike upon a point that he could not refute: that it would be conducive to her own safety if she knew his name, and how to call for him in any instance.

Link was beaten, and he knew it. There was no reasonable argument that he could present that would stand up in the face of her scrutiny. Even so, it was too early to tell her his name! She couldn't know, at least until he was sure that she would be able to handle the knowledge of her past, and the weight that would come with it. Perhaps knowing his name now would not trigger a vision or memory, but the fact was that it could happen at any time afterwards. At any moment, she may be overcome by her previous life, and every ghastly truth that came with it.

Of course, there were many good things about her past too, things that he and she would certainly be overjoyed that she remember but...

It was not worth the risk.

At least, not yet. Only when he was absolutely, unequivocally sure that she was ready, would he reveal his true identity to her.

But, of course, that left him with an issue now. Mipha would not let him get away with deflection now, not after she had so astutely focused on the issue.

Beads of sweat ran from Link's forehead, which was thankfully covered by his hood. His heart pounded in apprehension at the dilemma. Mipha's patience was surely wearing thin, although she was not showing it outwardly, as she waited far too long for his answer.

Finally, in a flash of inspiration, a solution came to Link. It was not a perfect solution. In fact, he was pretty sure that it wasn't even a _good_ one. Still, he threw down his chips, and prayed to the very goddesses he had so recently and resentfully scorned, as he prepared to go all in on his gamble.

''Well...'' he said finally. His hesitation was visible on his face, and in the way he drew out the word.  
''You've surely realised that I do not like to talk about my past.'' He tried to force his tone to be light, but the attempt fell comically flat. At Mipha's wordless agreement, he continued.  
''The reason for that is because I try very hard to not associate myself with it. You surely remember when I told you that almost all of my friends are... _gone._ '' He choked at that word. The emotion in it was entirely genuine, after all.  
''In the time since I lost them, I have tried to completely distance myself from everyone, even the few people I had left who still care for me.'' He desperately tried to banish Zelda's dejected and hurt face from his mind. Sidon's too.  
''As a result of that, I... isolated myself. You see, I did not come to the Plateau solely to explore, but also to... hide myself away.''

The truth rang in his words. Technically, he was still withholding information from Mipha, but ironically enough, this was perhaps the most honest he'd ever been with her, since her awakening.

''I ran because I was afraid.'' He said, quietly. Mipha was shocked by that admission. What could a fighter of his calibre possibly have to fear? From her observations, he was more the sort to tackle any problems he had directly, not shy away from them. It dawned on Mipha at that moment, that she knew far, _far_ less about her companion than she thought she had.  
''I ran to distance myself from my past, too.'' And there was another half-truth. Link certainly had run from one aspect of his past, but he'd instead run to pursue another. And pursue it he had. Beyond the point of reason, of sanity, and beyond even obsession.

Mipha started at that. Why would he be running from his past? Unless...

Mipha blanched. Unless he was running from something big. Something dangerous? Was he isolating himself because he couldn't stand to be around people, or because people couldn't stand to be around him?

Link had noticed her freeze and spoke with a fair bit of urgency.

''It's nothing bad, I assure you.'' He waved his hands in an attempt to be placating.

 _'Of course'_ , Mipha rationalised. Nothing about his behaviour had indicated that he was malicious. Dangerous? Certainly. His skill with a sword was frightening. Although, not once in his presence had Mipha ever felt threatened by him. In fact, the complete opposite was true; all it took was a word, a smile, and Mipha was at ease; a touch, and she was at rest. After all, if his intentions were nefarious, he would have no reason to go so far out of his way to help her, let alone arm her, himself. She relaxed again.

Link noticed the tension bleeding from her posture, and he sighed, then continued his story.

''So, in light of my cowardice, I attempted to distance myself from my past, and my identity in many aspects. I'm sorry.''

Mipha did not know why he was apologising. After all, he had not dishonoured her with his... 'cowardice' as he so described it. Perhaps he was trying to apologise to the world. Although, Mipha thought glumly, if the world had pushed this man, this _good_ man, so far as to cause him to flee from his past, then perhaps the world owed _him_ an apology. Despite her momentary lapse, Mipha _knew_ that she could trust this man. She did not know how, or why she knew, but she _did._ It screamed in her subconscious. It was undeniable.

Link was inspecting his own life, as well as his actions now. He could see that he had indeed fled from the world by coming here. He'd fled from Zelda, from Sidon, from Impa and from everyone else that still cared for him. He chuckled bitterly. The 'Hero of Courage' he was supposed to be? What a joke. All he saw was a man so broken, that he couldn't stand his own past, who saw no future, and who instead embarked on impossible quests and hid away from the world so that he did not have to face himself, and his failures.

Although, he supposed... Despite the impossibility of his goals, the magnitude of his failures, and every other factor weighing him down, here he stood. His own death had been overcome, Ganon had been vanquished, and now Mipha stood not three feet away from him. 

Speaking of Mipha, she looked as if she was holding back tears. In all fairness, he was too. The rawness of his emotions, and introspection was too much for him to contain, and it was spilling through his carefully constructed walls. Mipha, bless her empathetic heart, seemed to share in his feelings. He was finally prepared to play his gambit.

''I'm sorry that I've never told you my name. I suppose that I'm just not strong enough to bear thinking about it, after all it has become synonymous with my past, and my many failures. However, I understand your argument, and your need for a name to address me by. So, perhaps, would you allow me to give you a pseudonym, for you to refer to me by?''

He knew that he was playing on her emotions here. The fact that everything he said sharing some degree of truth notwithstanding, he realised that his words were attempting to manipulate her into granting his request.

Goddesses above, he hoped she'd forgive him for this. He wasn't even sure if he deserved it, not anymore, but...

He _had_ to hope. The alternative was too painful.

Finally, Mipha flung herself into his arms. Link stood ramrod stiff, as if afraid he'd shatter under her, like a mirror under the weight of his reflections.

Finally, after bringing his arms around her too, Mipha spoke up, ignoring the newly re-dampened shirt she was crying into.

''Oh my, I'm so, so sorry. For everything you've gone through.'' She whispered, as Link hiccuped beneath her, choking down a sob.  
''I cannot claim to know your reasons, nor the burdens through which you have endured, and nor can I soothe them. However... If it would bring you some small relief...'' She tailed off, shyly, ''Then I would be happy to... That is to say, I would be _honoured_ to know you by a pseudonym.''

Link barked out a broken, relieved laugh at her words, and held her tighter for a moment, wishing desperately to extend this moment to infinity. Why had he ever underestimated her, his dearest _Mipha's,_ capacity for empathy?

''I do not think you know...'' he choked ''How much that truly means to me.  
I promise you, Mipha, I _promise_ you that I will tell you my real name, when I'm ready.'' Link was not at all shocked to realise that for the first time in recent memory, he was being completely, utterly truthful.

Looking up at him, with eyes that sparkled with liquid gold, Mipha asked.

''In the meantime then, how should I refer to you?''

Link took a moment to deliberate on her question, before finally finding an answer he was happy with.

''You can call me Wild.''

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_It was a damp and overcast day in Lanayru. Despite this, the soul of the young, excitable Hylian was anything but. It made for quite the stark contrast, in her humble opinion. A fond smile crossed Mipha's face, as the boy charged along the Domain's elevated walkways with reckless abandon, the rain-slicked stone granting his bare feet little to no purchase._

_Many of the other Zora looked upon his antics less fondly than her, however. In the short time the child had been living with them, her advisor, the venerable Muzu, had already taken a sharp disliking to him, much to Mipha's consternation. He had also been on the wrong end of several pointed glares from adults whose paths he crossed, in quite the literal sense when they were sent stumbling over his scrawny, flailing limbs. However, amongst his own age-group, the boy was only increasing in popularity. Mipha chalked that up to his indomitable spirit and boundless energy, as well as the fact that, being an Hylian, he would naturally have an exotic charm to those young enough to have yet to meet any._

_The boy came around for another pass, standing at the top of the walkway, preparing to throw himself down his makeshift water slide. Mipha giggled at his carefree antics. After all, he was adorable._

_He took a larger, faster run up than before, and threw himself to the path's mercy with a whoop that echoed around the palace._

_As he rounded the corner, immediately Mipha realised his error; he was travelling too fast to stop, and the frictionless surface would not afford him enough control to redirect his momentum._

_The collision seemed to play out in slow motion, as his head impacted the unyielding stone with a sickening THUD._

_Her healer's instinct taking over, Mipha reached his side with a preternatural speed, and instantly reached for his head to assess the damage, to check for blood, bruising, fractures..._

_Before her hand even made contact, his small form shot up, with such abruptness that it startled the poor Princess. One moment, he lay prone, crumpled against the wall, the next, he was bouncing on his feet, as implacable as ever._

_Or perhaps that wasn't quite true. After all, despite the smile covering his mouth, his elation did not reach his eyes, and his hand covered a rapidly forming swell on his forehead. Mipha believed that he'd finally acknowledged that there was perhaps too much excitement for one day. Hopefully, that would mark the end of his ill-advised activities, for today at least._

_She could only hope for small victories. He **was** rather unruly after all..._

_After hearing his defiant nonchalance and attempt to downplay his accident, Mipha gave him an indulging smile, and agreed that, indeed, no mere wall could defeat a warrior of his calibre, but still offered to check his battle wound anyway, to which he graciously acquiesced, to her marked relief._

_She sighed, fondly. If her younger brother was to turn out like this, then she could yet get used to being an older sister. It would surely be wonderfully entertaining._

_''You truly are a wild, reckless child, aren't you?''_

_Link beamed at her in response._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that was somewhat worth the wait.
> 
> On another note, I haven't yet played Age of Calamity, and I'm desperately trying to avoid spoilers for it. Needless to say, I simultaneously cannot wait, and yet I'm extremely apprehensive. It's an odd feeling, lol. Unfortunately, to avoid spoilers, I'm having to avoid the Link/Mipha tags, lmao.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know what you think. I cherish every single comment I get. Being able to engage with readers over this story does wonders for my motivation to continue.
> 
> Many thanks.


	7. Piercing the Veil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to everybody reading this!
> 
> Here's an early Christmas gift for all of you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Once again, many thanks to aviatordame for beta reading. Go read their stuff and give them lots of love.

### Chapter 7: Piercing the Veil

### 

Mipha gave a side eyed glance towards her companion, the self-proclaimed 'Wild'.

She had immediately called him out for the name's silliness, although had not done so in a way meant to be scathing. Naturally, Wild had taken her teasing in good nature, and merely admitted that his real name was far sillier than any pseudonym he could concoct.

And hadn't _that_ just piqued her curiosity further. But, the insufferable man had merely winked, and walked away, leaving her to stew in her contemplation.

Nevertheless, the day would not wait for them, and neither would Wild. She found herself drawn along by his words and steps, as they returned to their shared cabin. Their morning walk passed without incident, nor encounter, although the brisk morning air was as chilling as it was invigorating, as residual droplets from the pond evaporated from Mipha's scales. She paid it little heed, however, for her attention was dominated by Wild, and his newfound light-heartedness. 

Despite having known him for less than a full day, a familiarity had blossomed between them. They had found themselves surprisingly attuned towards each other's mannerisms and habits, almost as if they had an entire lifetime's worth of history and experience together, to draw context from.

The logical part of Mipha's brain had supplied that such notions were most likely fallacies created in a desperate attempt to fill the aching void of her lost memories. That his attentiveness, compassion and prior knowledge was the source of his mindfulness and wisdom, rather than any tangible history between them. 

Despite her supposedly knowing better, however, her subconscious mind would not permit her to abandon her wide-eyed and desperate hope that their chemistry was not entirely of her own psychological fabrication. She could not deny the way her body involuntarily responded to him; the way her heart stuttered at his smile, the anxiety that rose in her stomach at what he might perceive as embarrassing, the fierce protectiveness she felt towards him despite all logic suggesting he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and the way her entire essence _melted_ when he displayed the same courtesy to her.

She simply couldn't reconcile herself to abandon her fervent yearning for him to acknowledge their companionship. She supposed that it was somewhat understandable, that she would imprint so strongly on him, when he was all that she knew was safe in a world full of unfamiliarity.

Unfortunately, she also thought that, no matter how predictable such behaviour may be, it was still rather pathetic to conduct herself in such a manner. She hoped that he would not soon tire of her following him around like a confused, lost puppy. She knew that she was impinging upon his resources and good will, although he had made no indication that he would ever be in danger of running out of either. She could only hope that this would continue to remain the case, at least until she might have some semblance of her identity, and how to look after herself...

One thing she was certain of though, was that she _knew_ Wild. The fact that she had come to do so in such a short time was the source of much mystification, and even incredulity.

Seemingly unprompted, it was then that Wild _finally_ deigned to divulge his plans for their journeys that day. After all, he had promised to help her find a way to reconnect with her forgotten past.

She was certain beyond any doubt that his promise to help her had been genuine, and she implicitly trusted him to know the best way to go about reclaiming her lost memories. Even if her judgement of his character was mistaken, and Mipha was _certain_ that it was not, it was not as if she had any other viable alternatives, given the abandoned Plateau that confined them. Her only other option would be to stumble around blindly, without memory nor knowledge. Given her options, or rather lack thereof, Mipha found herself very content to follow Wild's lead.

Wild's voice was softer as he spoke now, a consequence of his emotional outpouring earlier. Mipha found herself entranced by his gentle tones, as his voice carried her anxieties away with the wind.

''The only clue you were offered to your past was the Sheikah Slate you were provided with.''

This statement wasn't exactly news to either of them, but she appreciated his attempt to justify his rhetoric.

Upon her silent confirmation via the inclination of her brow, he continued.

''Therefore, I would assume that the Sheikah are, in some way, integral to your current circumstances.''

A reasonable assumption, Mipha mused. Although to what extent the Sheikah had affected her was certainly still up for consideration.

''And as a result of that...'' Wild tailed off, as he was often wont to do. Mipha wondered if he had picked up that habit from her, or if she had copied it from him. Either way, it was not particularly conducive to conveying the meanings one intended.  
''I suppose it's not too much of a stretch to think that the Sheikah will hold more answers for you.''

Mipha certainly followed, and agreed with, his logical progression, although she felt that there was perhaps one oversight in his words. That being, their isolation on the Great Plateau. She voiced as much in a tone dripping with dry wit:

''I do not suppose that there is a Sheikah enclave that shares this Plateau with us, that has previously gone unnoticed?'' Her brow arched as her voice lilted with a wry exasperation.

Link chuckled, almost doubling over in mirth. It had been far, far too long since he had entertained such pleasant company, after all. The pang of guilt that ran through him, for _that_ particular predicament was entirely of his own making, caused his step to falter, before he continued. He hoped Mipha hadn't noticed his wince, and misstep.

She had, but she refrained from commenting. 

''No, there is not.'' He confirmed, amusedly. ''Despite the Sheikah's reputation for stealth, I think that would be beyond even them.'' His respect for the Sheikah was evident in his tone, and Mipha did not miss the significance of that. She inferred that he obviously held the Sheikah in high regard, and so determined that if he was putting his trust in them, and their creations, then so too should she.

She didn't acknowledge the hum of _dread_ that pervaded her bones, until it had already passed. How curious, if unsettling. 

She decided to file away those thoughts for later.

Before her hopes could be dashed too thoroughly, he acknowledged her implied inquiry as to the direction of his words.

''However, on this Plateau, there exist four Shrines created by the Sheikah, not counting the one from which you emerged, as well as a Sheikah Tower.'' With an irreverent gesture, both of their gazes were drawn to the tower in the distance, rising over the surrounding plain. A stalwart observer, silent and ever watching. Ever judging.

''Those Shrines have been sealed for the best part of ten thousand years.'' He intoned gravely, reclaiming her attention, ''Yet the Slate which you carry is rumoured to have the ability to unlock them. I can only speculate that whomever left it to you for when you awoke may have also left either further clues, or supplies in those Shrines in order to assist you.'' 

Mipha's heart leapt in apprehensive excitement, ignoring the slight hitch in his words as he swallowed mid-sentence. Her pulse raced until her limbs were filled with a twitchy adrenaline, as she realised the implication of his words. For the first time since she had awoken, she had a potential lead, a link towards her previous life. She found herself uncharacteristically impatient to follow up on it, all while reason held her more excitable aspects down under a thin veneer of curious indifference.

''But how would we know which Shrines, if any,'' Mipha paused, for she realised that it was still a possibility that nothing of value to her would be present in a sealed 10,000 year old shrine, although giddy excitement was tending to override her more pessimistic doubts. Clearly, if someone had planned this after all, and Mipha would admit that she suspected that quite heavily, then surely they would not have left her to blindly wander around this Plateau for the rest of her days.  
''If _any_ of them,'' she repeated ''Contain anything of personal value or interest to myself.'' She finished.

Wild chuckled again, and gave her a knowing, playful glance, before replying, in a coquettish tone.  
''Then I suppose we'll have to check all of them.''

Mipha blinked, for _of course_ that was an option, but given the size of the Plateau, and the fact that she had no idea where each of the Shrines were (although she suspected that Wild did), surely that was not an option that would grant an expeditious resolution. She found the prospect of spending hours, or even _days,_ trudging around the Plateau, all in the fleeting _hope_ of finding herself in the Shrines to be rather unappealing. 

She would much rather be granted a swifter, expedient solution to the issue, and not be forced to spend a great deal of time, effort and investment on what could yet turn out to be a wild porgie chase. She found her patience woefully stretched by the mere prospect, much to her consternation. 

Wild, however, simply laughed. He seemed to have noticed the warring expressions conflicting her, and was likely most sympathetic to her desire for immediate answers. However, the longer he stared at her, the more Mipha was beginning to think that he was aware of something else that she was not, for he seemed far too amused at the prospect of a laborious, possibly fruitless, hike.

Finally succumbing to her curiosity, Mipha relented, and politely ~~demanded~~ _asked_ the reason behind his mirth.

With a twinkle in his eye, and a spring in his step, he merely asked to hold the Slate. Confused, and curious, Mipha handed it to him, and he brought up a menu she had not before seen. It appeared to be a map, and on it were marked six locations of notable interest in blue. Hovering over one, he turned his gaze upon her again.

He held out a hand, expectantly, and stared deep into her amber eyes. Mipha could see more of his face than ever before, and in it she saw warmth, trust, and a teasing expectation.

''I'll be glad to show you, my dear.'' He said, jovially. Mipha divided her focus from his own azure eyes, and to the offered hand.  
''But first, I must ask... Do you trust me?''

She considered him for a moment, however she already knew what her answer would be, would always be:

She trusted him. Wholly and implicitly. Without hesitation, and without reservation.

She would follow him to the ends of the Earth, if only to see him smile once more.

She nodded once, and took his hand in her own. He offered her a radiant smile, and Mipha could not stifle the rush of warmth through her chest upon seeing it. Her hand twitched in his grasp, as she clenched on his hand more tightly, as blood rushed into her fins, causing them to flare.

With an over-dramatic flourish, he tapped once on the screen. Mipha instantly noticed something odd, but was unable to place the tingling in her stomach. It took her too long of a moment to realise that Wild was disintegrating, his body dissolving into translucent blue strands. 

To her own rising horror, she felt a chilling numbness in her legs, and looked down to see them already gone; she realised that the same process was affecting herself, her entire body phasing out of existence so alarmingly quickly. It was almost beautiful, in a haunting way, as the blue strands that formerly comprised their bodies were scattered to the wind. 

The terror reached her face for a moment, and her heart squeezed in panic, and a terrifying nausea rocked her gut, before her gaze was once again commandeered by her companion. Surprisingly, he was not at all phased by the process currently occurring. His eyes still held that _trust_ and _warmth_ and _safety_ that they did before, and it brought her some measure of peace, all whilst the strands encroached further upwards. Before she was fully consumed, and her vision faded to white, Mipha could only conclude that this uncanny process was the reason he had asked of her trust. She barely had the time to realise that whatever was currently occurring was far, _far_ weirder than anything she could have possibly expected.

In a belated flash of inspiration, she realised that Wild knew far, _far_ more than he was letting on. Far more than she had even previously suspected.

With a final flash of blue, the Slate finished converting them, and their essence was rapidly transported over the forests and plains, towards the Shrine of Monk Oman Au.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Upon their re-materialisation, Mipha collapsed into Wild's arms, as a wave of nausea overcame her. As she struggled to right herself, a pulse of weakness thrummed through her body. A pathetic moan escaped her, as she sunk further into his grasp, too discombobulated for coherent thought.

Curiously, Wild did not seem to be afflicted by the same weakness as her, as he stood, as steadfast as always, and wrapped his arms around her to better support her weight. He rubbed soothing circles into her back, as he patiently awaited for the worst of the travel sickness to abate.

Mipha considered it a great personal achievement that she did _not_ vomit all over her esteemed company. She may have embarrassed herself with an alarming frequency in front of him in their time together, but the shame of regurgitating the most divine of delicacies he'd so generously donated to her all over him would surely exceed her usual flustered state. She didn't think she'd ever forgive herself, especially if, in doing so, she would surpass his seemingly limitless accommodation of her and her flaws.

With a heaving breath, Mipha wrested control back over her body, and attempted to pull away, a worrisome expression on her face. Her withdrawal, and her apology, was refuted by Wild refusing to unlock his arms from around her. Entranced by his gaze, the words died on Mipha's lips, before they even had a chance to be born.

Now she looked deeply into his eyes, truly scrutinised his gaze, she noticed something quite unusual: The irises of his eyes were each of a slightly different shade of blue; his left eye was ever so slightly lighter than his right. It was as curious as it was oddly beautiful...

''No apologies are necessary, my dear.'' He crooned lowly, and Mipha shivered as his words reverberated in his chest, and then hers.  
''I'm afraid that _I_ should be the one apologising; I did not consider the effect that teleportation would have on you.'' Link kicked himself mentally. How could he have forgotten the debilitating sickness he'd experienced upon first using the Slate's ability to teleport?

Due to the expedience it offered, he'd learnt to grit his teeth and bear it, and had eventually become accustomed to it out of necessity. However that should _not_ have overwritten the many, _many_ unpleasant memories of the early days of abusing the function, and puking his guts up upon the completed voyage. After all, he had received several dirty looks from villagers, who had been forced to clean up the mess he had left, much to his shame. Bazz and Gaddison were _still_ giving him shit for that.

Although... for all of the... _unpleasantness_ Mipha was surely experiencing, he noted that she handled it with far more composure that he ever had. He let his awe of her swell, as he watched her forcibly controlling her breathing with unmasked intrigue, and admiration.

He still held on to her; he knew that motion, even only the slightest amount, would undoubtedly exacerbate the sickness tenfold. So, he held her, as still and as securely as he could; her rock to latch on to, until the storm churning in her stomach dispersed.

After several minutes of slow, torturous breaths, Mipha sighed weakly, and drew back, more insistently this time. Link allowed her to retreat, but not before searching her eyes for clarity and focus. Pleased at what he saw, he let her go, and she stood up on her unsteady legs. She swayed for a moment, before rediscovering her balance. A carefully neutral expression crossed her face. Link winced.

Her gaze held more power than Link believed she'd ever truly known. Or perhaps that was wrong. It was entirely possible she knew _exactly_ how effective it was. She'd certainly used it enough times in the past, to great effect after all. On him and Sidon both.

Unable to endure her silent barrage, Link's defences crumbled, and apologies and attempted justifications were spilling from his mouth like a river from its source.

After a moment of incoherent babbling, Link finally regained a measure of himself, and turned his beseeching eyes towards hers.

''I did not mean to cause you such discomfort, Mipha. I hope you realise that I would never deliberately do _anything_ that would cause you pain.'' His earnest words moved her, and she found that whatever ire she may have felt at his mischievousness, or its unexpected consequences, was melting under his honest remorse.

With an indignant huff, her features smoothed back into calm. She held her eyes closed for an extended moment, and upon reopening them, allowed her misgivings to fall away. A pleasant smile crossed her face.

''Then perhaps the next time you plan on transporting us halfway across the horizon, I would _highly_ appreciate a word of warning beforehand.'' She smirked, in an attempt to offset her lingering discomfort. Despite the fact that she thought it must've looked like she'd attempted to swallow a rotten fish, she realised that Wild had returned it, an equally unpleasant guilt tainting his own smile. Either that, or he was constipated. Mipha was not yet too familiar with Hylian facial expressions.

If he _was,_ then she could probably prescribe something to loosen his stool...

Catching herself with a jolt, she shook her head to dismiss the irrelevant tangent. Gods damn her if she ever adopted Wild's infuriating habit of following facetious tangents; it was not nearly as amusing as he seemed to believe it was.

''Well,'' she continued, unperturbed ''Unless you have any _other_ remarkable, groundbreaking abilities to reveal at this present moment,'' she offered him a pointed, knowing look, ''Then I suppose that we have a Shrine to explore.''

She turned, and entered into the dark interior of the small building, concealing her rising suspicion behind superficial humour.

Link gaped at her retreating back, secretly glad she hadn't seen his momentary shock and vulnerability. She always was far too astute, after all. He shouldn't be so surprised that she'd figure him out eventually, especially after his infuriatingly obtuse evasiveness.

Laughing, he replied as he followed her in:

''No, not at this moment.'' Promise teased his words. A promise Mipha had a feeling he _would_ make good on, before the day was out. ''And yes, I suppose that we do.''

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had taken a moment before Mipha realised that the interior of the Shrine was a great deal smaller than she was expecting. She strode, full of confidence that masked her lingering nausea, into the chamber, and was immediately confronted with the walls of the exterior, and no discernable doorways. 

The exterior structure was small, so she'd been expecting perhaps stairs, or a trapdoor leading to underground levels. Instead, faced only with a space that could generously be described as 'cosy' and a pedestal, she'd had quite the start.

She noticed Wild's presence closing the space between them. Now sandwiched between the unassuming pedestal and her companion, she idly noted the glowing sigil on the ground beneath her; it was the Eye, the same emblem that had emblazoned the Sheikah Slate's screen when she had first activated it. Wild deftly squeezed past her, giving her shoulder an affectionate nudge as he did so, then placed the screen of the Slate on the pedestal, with an air of certainty that perplexed Mipha.

He turned to face her again, but Mipha's face had smoothed over before he could notice her curiosity.

A ring of blue fire flared from the ground, and Mipha startled with a jolt. Then, with an unpleasant grinding, the floor shuddered, then began to descend into previously obscured depths.

With the jagged movement, Mipha's queasiness returned with a vengeance, as she staggered to hold onto Wild, while the platform descended into darkness, taking the Shrine's occupants along with it.

Well, Mipha mused, at least she felt vindicated in her expectations of a basement.

It would have been terribly underwhelming if the Shrine was no larger than its outside appearance would indicate, after all.

Whilst Mipha had felt vindicated to realise that the Shrine was larger than it appeared to be, she still found herself taken aback by the sheer magnitude of the chambers within.

As the elevator had ground to a halt, and the force fields containing them had dissipated, Mipha had stumbled forwards into the first room, awe and shock consuming her at the true scale of the Shrine. 

Cavernous walls held up a ceiling so high, it may as well have been out of sight to the occupants, leaving Mipha with a disquieting sense of vertigo, no doubt exacerbated by the nausea she'd previously endured. Although the chamber contained a similar décor to the Shrine she had awoken in, complete with soft blue lights and orange highlights, by comparison, that first Shrine was positively claustrophobic. 

Mipha had not decided whether she preferred the clustered walls of that first Shrine, that had once felt so stifling, or the yawning chasm of this Shrine, that made her feel so exposed. After a long moment of consideration, she decided that both were equally unsettling.

Her reverie was broken by Wild's smooth voice, for _of course_ this didn't phase him. Mipha was beginning to doubt if anything would truly get under his skin. He just seemed to exude the feeling of such experience; as if he'd already seen all of it before, and nothing left in this world could truly take him by surprise anymore. Mipha sighed. Truly, that must be a sad state of mind to exist in, especially for one who claimed to enjoy exploration.

Still, for as awe-inspiring as their current surroundings were, Mipha would note that the extent of his unfazed attitude was certainly suspicious.

After all, he had been the one to tell her that these Shrines had been sealed for ten thousand years, and that her Slate, which he had repeatedly demonstrated proficiency in, was rumoured to unlock them...

Mipha was starting to pull together a picture. She was not yet sure of the final outcome – there was still so much hanging in doubt - and she was equally unsure if she would end up liking it.

''The Slate says here that this is the 'Magnesis Trial'... whatever that's supposed to mean anyway.''

Mipha looked over towards him, then to the Slate extended in his hands. Indeed, the Slate had identified the Shrine, which only left them to understand what was meant by such a title.

With a wordless request, Mipha asked for the Slate. Wild, too, acquiesced wordlessly, handing it over with a nod, and no small amount of reverence. He then turned, giving the room another survey, to which Mipha followed his actions.

It did not take a genius to infer that the 'Magnesis Trial' would likely utilise the Magnesis Rune of the Slate. Mipha idly switched the Slate over to the corresponding Rune, and thumbed the screen as through it the world was washed in a deep crimson, a similar shade to her scales. She noted that the two conspicuous metal slabs that lay on the ground before her were fully shaded in crimson, a stark contrast to the stone walls and floor that were merely tinted red. 

She remembered Wild regaling her with tales of the Magnesis Rune; that it could be used to manipulate objects of a metallic nature through a mysterious sounding 'magnetic force'. He'd even happily demonstrated, using the rune to wave his sword around in such a lackadaisical way that she was amazed he was still in possession of all of his bodily extremities. She also remembered feeling beyond exasperated with his lack of discipline, given that she had so recently witnessed him in combat, with a posture and form that would surely have put every soldier in that magnificent castle to shame.

But that was only a comparatively small sword. Surely this tiny Slate could not muster the force to lift an enormous metal slab, with a mass exceeding several tons...

Her curiosity demanded her to try anyway. If only for the sake of finding out.

It appeared that some thing truly did need to be seen, to be believed.

Mipha had locked onto the slab, not expecting to be able to move it more than a few millimetres, if at all. She had slowly jerked the Slate away, and her jaw almost hit the frigid floor when the colossal slab just _moved with it,_ as if it weighed no more than an autumn leaf on a light breeze. Her shock only truly registered when the great slab began hovering uncomfortably close to her blissfully unaware companion.

Link had been poking around the first chamber, making a great show of doing absolutely nothing. He had handed Mipha the Slate, and made her aware of the nature of the Shrine they were in, and he was simply waiting for her to figure out the admittedly intuitive 'puzzle'. 

Given the fiendish traps and tricks he'd been forced to overcome in more challenging Shrines, as well as the Divine Beasts themselves, calling this first room a 'puzzle' seemed laughably weak. Although, he supposed that that was not the nature of these Shrines. After all, it would have been a bit rude, not to mention counter-intuitive, for the Sheikah to drop him in at the proverbial deep end, rather than let him figure out the basics on his own. 

He'd consigned himself to allow Mipha the same courtesy he'd been afforded, although he did not expect to have to wait long. After all, Mipha was remarkably shrewd, and this Shrine was far from challenging, either mentally or physically.

He'd noticed something was off when a large shadow loomed over him, blocking out the soft lights by which he was using to 'inspect' the wall. He'd turned around, and immediately been faced with several tons of suspended metal. He would later profusely deny having let out an undignified squeak as the mass hovered a bit _too_ close for his comfort, although Mipha had already vowed to never let him live it down. 

It was hardly her fault though. His response had been a result of his own specialised brand of impulsive stupidity; the first time he'd entered this Shrine, he'd accidentally dropped the slab from the Slate's grip, whilst whirling the giant slab around like a maniac, cackling at the power he wielded. It had very nearly fallen on and crushed him. In fact, he could even see the scuff marks on the ground where the metal had fallen. Needless to say, he'd sobered up a bit after that.

Once he'd recovered from his momentary lapse (and Mipha had moved the enormous slab away to a more comfortable distance), Link strolled over towards where the slab had previously been resting with all of the faux nonchalance he could muster, and turned to stare at the uncovered hole. Hearing a rather unsubtle 'thunk' as the slab returned to the ground, he noticed Mipha coming to join him.

They both stared at the unveiled ladder, and then through the bars separating this room from the next with an uncanny synchronicity. Mipha turned to face him, and he fixed her with a raised eyebrow, then cocked his head towards the path forwards. He then began climbing down the ladder, only pausing to give an inquisitive glance above his head when Mipha did not immediately follow. Upon witnessing his imploring expression, Mipha gently sighed, and began to descend, much to Link's internal glee.

Mipha noticed the channel of water that ran alongside the unveiled path, and took the opportunity to hop in, with an atypically unreserved splash. The fact that her entry caused a fair deal of water to splash onto Wild's clothing, and hearing his accompanying squawk of protest, brought an uncharacteristically impish smile to her face. That minor payback was the least he deserved for the nausea she had suffered before, although she would never admit to him that petty vengeance was her motivation. 

The next thing she noticed was that the water was remarkably clean, not at all stagnant, and even flowing, which implied an external source. It was not an odd thing for her to take note of, given her species' habitation, but it did raise yet more questions as to the Shrine's construction. She left the water at the other end of the channel feeling blissfully rejuvenated, for however short her swim was.

Ascending the steps into the second room, Mipha and her guide were faced with a wall of stone blocks. However, calling it a 'wall' was perhaps being rather generous. It stood no more than one block high in all but one instance, although each block was still longer than Wild was tall, if not by much. More blocks were piled around the base, so that it was two layers thick in most places, although the layers were definitely not collinear. 

Mipha was of the impression that the blocks were perhaps stacked together at one point, creating a barrier that would have once stood as high as the walls surrounding it, but it had fallen down some time over the last ten thousand years. Despite this, the blocks were still rather large, and likely immensely heavy; far too heavy for even both her and Wild to push. Fortunately, she had spotted a metal block amongst the rubble and was already swinging the Slate towards it, capturing it in Magnesis' embrace.

Using the immense power held delicately in her hands, she used her captive metal block as an impromptu battering ram, to clear away the other blocks, and forge a path forwards. Wild strolled merrily behind her, and added an approving hum at her ingenuity. Pride swelled in Mipha's breast at his approval, and happiness expanded from her stomach to engulf all of her limbs, as she gleefully pushed onwards. 

Standing on the raised platforms of the next room, Mipha could not help but notice a veritable scrap pile of machinery, sharing their space. Cautiously, she approached it, although the wreck made no response to her encroachment. Feeling slightly bolder, she drew up next to it, in order to inspect the fascinating object. 

Her initial analysis was verified. Whatever purpose this thing had once served, she could not begin to guess at, however the fact that it was mechanical in nature was evident by the loose screws and wires escaping from its cracked outer casing. A more thorough inspection revealed that those cracks must have been caused by blunt force trauma, the thin casing warped and twisted around the openings clearly the result of deformation from some kind of impact. 

The curiosity may have showed on Mipha's face, however her companion couldn't see it, as he'd remained behind her. Mipha seemed to notice him again in that moment. His posture was unusually tense, which immediately raised alarms, and his hand seemed to be drifting towards the comforting weight of his sword. Mipha managed to school her features before her shock could openly show, however the fact that he was looking... no, _glaring_ at the decrepit automaton as if it would suddenly activate and attempt to bite them was... _unsettling._

In fact, if Mipha had a single word to describe this entire experience in the Shrine, it would be 'unsettling'. It was not something she could yet consciously identify, but it seemed like a multitude of factors, from Wild's behaviour, to the unmaintained shrine, to her own gut feelings all brought up steady discomfort. Mipha had attempted to not let her feelings override clear and logical judgement, although she could not deny that her instincts were far from content. _Something_ about the smell of the water in these chambers, the style of decoration and the aesthetic of the stonework hinted at...

Something.

She could not yet put it into words. 

Brought out of her reverie by her companion strolling forwards onto the makeshift bridge to the second raised platform, Mipha had to suppress a gasp of horror as Wild's weight was enough to upset the asymmetrically placed platform's tenuous equilibrium, as it, and he, were sent crashing into the shallow waters of the shrine's floor. Startled, and remarkably relieved, by his sheepish laughter, she exhaled more forcefully, and used the Slate to rebuild their bridge, while Wild hauled himself back onto the platform, using the conveniently placed ladder.

She had to bite back her smirk at his now sodden clothing. He had evidently taken quite the tumble. Although, if his cantankerous grumbling was to be believed, he was not truly injured, merely inconvenienced by his impromptu bath, much to Mipha's naked relief, and suppressed humour.

With the metal slab now much more securely placed (and Mipha had to bite back a sigh about how precariously it had been placed previously), Mipha stepped to the second platform, but her attention was caught by a discarded chest that lay on the floor of the Shrine. Noting its metallic sheen, Mipha instinctively summoned it to her position with the Slate. The top of the chest yawned open as it dangled, suspended in mid air, the locking mechanism having clearly been broken. A quick look confirmed the chest to be empty.

Feeling quite put out, Mipha dropped the chest with a sonorous clang that echoed off the walls a few times before finally dispersing. She turned to face Wild, who merely offered a shrug in answer. 

Mipha was remarkably suspicious that something or _someone_ had been in this Shrine before them. Clearly, if the multitudes of evidence, of decay was to be believed, this Shrine had not remained sealed for the last ten millennia.

Given what little she knew about the Sheikah, Mipha did not think they would tolerate such negligence in their constructs. The logical conclusion was then that some external source had disrupted whatever order had once existed here. But of course, that only left the question as to what.

Or, more pointedly, to _whom._

Sighing, Mipha decided that such answers would not be forthcoming, especially if they did not move forwards. Summoning the giant slab back to her again, she repositioned it to bridge the gap between the second and final raised platforms with an efficiency and precision that surprised Link. 

Well, he supposed, she always had been a quick study.

Seeing that there was nothing else to really do, Mipha called him forwards with a small wave, and Link's heart clenched at the casual nostalgia of the action. Outwardly, he maintained his expression of pleasant curiosity however, as he trotted up to Mipha's side. 

Finally, faced with a great set of metallic doors that Mipha had pre-emptively begun to swing open, the two ascended up the small steps to reach the Shrine's Dais, where the monk Oman Au had once waited.

Neither Mipha nor Link paid any attention to the raised lanterns flanking the platform, although the eerie glow they cast the chamber in could not go unnoticed.

If Mipha had been surprised by the lack of fanfare at the end of the Shrine, she did not show it. Rather, she approached the vacant Dais with no small amount of reverence.

Instead of an ancient, withered Sheikah to offer paltry congratulations and a Spirit Orb, there was something instead that Link considered to be a far better gift.

On an unrelated note, Link was still not sure how completing the 'puzzles' in this Shrine proved that he had the 'resolve of a true hero', but...

His train of thought was derailed as Mipha raised a cautious hand towards her reward.

Watching her seemingly frozen in indecisiveness, Link decided to take pity, and grant her the permission she no doubt sought.  
''You should take it. It's not as if anyone else is using it here.'' He smirked.

Mipha jumped back, as if stung. Link half-cursed, half-blessed his light footfalls. Mipha had been so engrossed in her rumination that she had forgotten she was not alone. Of course, he hadn't meant to startle her, goddesses knew that _his_ startle response could be... erratic...

But, Din forsake him, the way she had pouted at him was adorable. What he would not give for a thousand more such moments.

~~What he hadn't already given.~~

Seemingly unconvinced, Link realised that Mipha needed further persuading. Without leaving her to formulate a response, he continued.

''That aside, you really _should_ take it. After all, you were left with the only key capable of opening and traversing this Shrine. Therefore, it's safe to assume that whatever is left in these buildings has been left for you.'' Link gave a self-satisfied smirk at his delivery. After all, Mipha couldn't yet know how true that statement was.

His reasoning managed to convince her, and Mipha finally closed her hand around her prize.

It was not as grandiose as one may have expected. In fact, it nearly fit in Mipha's outstretched palm: Three crescents, all glowing a silvery blue in the light of the Shrine, were welded together to create a symbol of some kind. The significance of such an item was lost on Mipha, although she was certain that it must have held some kind of importance, to have been left where it was. She handled it delicately, as if it were made of glass, instead of the resilient metal it seemed to be comprised of, as she determinedly attempted to understand what she was supposed to do with it.

Failing to reach any conclusion, she turned to her companion, to see if he would continue his convenient trend of offering explanations for just about everything she came across.

Her intuition was proved correct, as Wild turned to peer at the small item, nestled in her palm.

''Well, my dear,'' he huffed. ''It appears to be some kind of jewellery.''

Mipha was somewhat disappointed by that. She had trekked through this dingy, dilapidated Shrine for a single piece of finery? She was not sure what she had expected it to be, upon first glance. Perhaps a key to some kind of puzzle? Or maybe it could be manipulated into another shape to serve some as of yet unknown purpose? Hearing that it just appeared to be a decorative item seemed like quite the let down. However, her mood instantly reversed when Wild continued on his appraisal of the item.

''In fact... unless I'm very much mistaken.'' Link paused for dramatic effect, knowing that it would infuriate Mipha. What could he say? She certainly knew about his flair for the dramatic.  
''This appears to be Zora, in origin. In fact, this is the symbol _of_ the Zora.''

Link wondered if he could commit Mipha's shocked face into memory. Unfortunately, she still held the Slate, so he couldn't take a picture to commemorate the moment, so his brain would just have to make do. Besides, his memory had been exceptional since his blanket amnesia, thank you very much.

Now hearing of the item's significance, Mipha looked upon it through a new lens. A fine silver chain threaded through her fingers, as she inspected it again; indeed, the craftsmanship was actually rather impressive, with fine detailing engraved on the robust base.

Almost instinctively, Mipha drew the chain apart, widening it enough to slip her head through and, with an exhale, dropped the necklace over her head. The symbol bounced once, then fell still against her chest, as she lifted her tail through the loop, securing the emblem to her person.

Once it was in place, Mipha felt a wave of security wash over her. Instantly, she felt more secure in her identity, and in her own presence. It would perhaps be erroneous for her to claim that, with the addition of a mere emblem, she felt somehow less 'naked', seeing as just as much of her body was on show as it was before, however Mipha found herself settling with that, lacking any more concise way to describe it.

She was broken from her musing by her companion's effervescence, as his voice cut through the silence of the Shrine.

''I must say that it suits you!'' Wild exclaimed, cheerfully, giving her an appraising nod and wink, though Mipha was still too entranced to truly appreciate it, only murmuring her gratitude.

Not put off at all by her distractedness, he continued on:

''I think that this surely confirms the theory that these Shrines have something for you. I suppose I must ask if this object is sparking any memories, or...'' He tailed off, his tone expectant as usual. Mipha was truly loath to let him down, and seeing him deflate when she informed him that no memories were forthcoming served to make her own heart sink.

Still, he bounced back admirably, and then began discussing which Shrine to visit next, trying to engage with her, to make her speculate on what she thought might lie waiting for her, and what she might hope to find, at the end of the other Shrines on the Plateau.

Mipha, still lacking so much of her identity, hadn't really had much of an answer to give him. She eventually settled on saying that, whilst the emblem of the Zora was nice, she hoped that any further items would be of more personal relevance to her, hopefully sparking more memories, leading her to answers to the many, many questions that continued to pile up. She found herself hoping that her companion would not scoff too much at her lack of imagination, although she did not really know what kind of answer he was expecting from her, with so much of her past still infuriatingly vague.

As they returned to the elevator, Wild courteously gesturing for her to go first, Mipha still found herself somewhat distracted. As the platform rose smoothly, she found herself drowning out all other stimuli to focus on her necklace once more, as it swayed with their inertia.

She didn't notice that they had arrived at the surface, until a gentle hand landed on her shoulder.

Glancing up towards Wild, she gave him an inquisitive stare.

A silence spread between them, neither really knowing what to say, until it stretched to the point of awkwardness, much to Mipha's embarrassment.

''You... er...'' Wild stuttered, and, clearly, he was struggling just as much as she. Trying again, with as forced of a casual tone as he could muster, he addressed her.  
''You seem very engrossed with it.'' Gesturing towards the amulet with his hand.

''Oh... yes.'' Mipha agreed, unsure how to respond.  
''I suppose it's just... nice to know that I belong somewhere.''

Wild recoiled, rather quickly, and Mipha was startled by his jolt, as he seemed very intent on covering up the fact that her words had made him briefly wilt.

''Ah, yes.'' Said Wild. ''Of course. Knowing that you have a home, a people, out there must surely be most relieving to you...''

_Oh dear._

With a flash, Mipha realised the reason for him becoming so momentarily morose. A reminder of her community, her family, would only highlight and exacerbate the fact that he was isolated, and had lost his own connections, as he'd lamented to her so despondently. Mipha's heart ached for him again.

Although...

For now, at least, any notions of community and belonging were still a vague, nebulous concept; one steeped in fantasy and speculation over any hard evidence. Until she could remember more about herself, her life, it would be foolish of her to squander what she currently had for what she might not yet be able to return to.

Facing him once more, with a shy smile, Mipha spoke to her wonderfully kind-hearted companion, hoping to put him at ease, to repay kindness with kindness:  
''It's not as relieving as knowing that you are here, with me.''

She giggled, as she took in his dumbfounded expression, and swore that the glint she noticed in his eyes was not of her own imagining. Her heart squeezed in giddiness, as she glided past him, a fresh spring in her step, feeling eager to tackle the next Shrine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that was entertaining. It just felt right to upload on Christmas Day.
> 
> In other news, I'm getting Age of Calamity for Christmas, so I hope to soon be able to engage with the Miphlink community without fear of spoiling myself. Many apologies for my absence. On the bright side, I have a couple of months of fanfics to catch up on, which should keep me busy for a while. :)
> 
> Please let me know what you think below. Each and every comment is like a Christmas present in and of itself, and I cherish them all dearly.


	8. Unwavering Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone; I hope this update finds you well.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Also, I've _finally_ begun my playthrough of AoC.
> 
> I got to unlocking Mipha and....  
> My heart.
> 
> Oh, god, she's so perfect. Her theme is so glorious.
> 
> I'm not far in though, so no spoilers please. ;)
> 
> Once again, thanks to aviatordame for being the best beta-reader I could ever ask for.

### Chapter 8: Unwavering Resolve

### 

When Wild did not offer any response beyond dumbfounded silence, Mipha decided that, her digressions aside, it would be kindest to leave him to his privacy whilst he struggled to compose himself.

She hadn't expected that her declaration would have had such a profound effect on the man, although she would freely admit that she was most flattered by it.

Truly, how much he regarded her approval and companionship was... remarkable.

Perhaps, Mipha realised, that for as much as she'd berated herself for forming an attachment to another so quickly, he had been guilty of falling into the exact same trap.

Internally, Mipha simply refused to refer to it as a 'mistake'; her mind would not allow her to consider viewing her closeness to him as such.

So, when Wild eventually jogged to catch up with her, Mipha graciously did not probe into what was evidently a very tender wound that she had exposed. She merely hoped that he would return the favour, when he noticed that the reason she had come to a halt, all of twenty paces from him, was because she'd realised that she had no idea where the next Shrine resided.

Upon registering the thought, Mipha decided to pre-emptively bring up the map menu she had seen Wild access when he had teleported them to the Magnesis Shrine, although she took a great deal of care to not tap near any of the markings; she did not want to accidentally teleport herself to goodness knows where, and abandon her companion in the process.

Her stomach rocked, for multiple distinct reasons, at the mere notion.

When he saw the Slate, Wild brightened up noticeably.

''Already planning our next move?'' He asked, cheerily.

Mipha nodded in response, not moving her gaze from the screen. She took note of the icon indicating her current location, it's proximity to one of the markers, as well as the distance and direction to the remaining Shrines. 

The Shrine Wild had teleported them to was located in the north-eastern corner of the Plateau. She noticed that the next nearest Shrine to them was south-east of their location, within an area the map labelled as the 'Eastern Abbey', and that walking towards the Shrine would undoubtedly take them past the great Tower, looming so imposingly over the landscape. 

Mipha glanced upwards, looking at the Tower, then back to the Slate, before turning back to fully acknowledge Wild's approach.

''Well, as you've no doubt noticed, the nearest Shrine from here is in that direction.'' said Wild, clearly having observed the direction of her gaze.

''We could teleport there now...'' he offered, although Mipha could tell that he clearly did not believe that she would accept. His voice was cautious, and hesitant, as if he was only reminding her of the possibility for the sake of giving her the opportunity to politely decline.

And, politely decline she did, her stomach still having not fully settled from their previous jaunt.

''If it's all the same to you,'' Mipha replied, pleasantly. ''I would much rather walk.''

''Of course.'' Wild replied, in a gentle and understanding tone. ''Well, it's not far at all, and it should be quite the pleasant stroll.'' He continued, his easygoing nature settling Mipha's anxiety. Truly, she was rather glad that he did not take any offence to the inconvenience. Debilitating nausea aside, Mipha knew that the expedience offered by such efficient means of transportation could not be overstated. But, once again, Wild's kindness shone through, as he implicitly informed her that he would happily sacrifice the convenience for the sake of her comfort, and that he did not resent having to slow down for her.

The notion warmed her breast, as she struggled to control her emotions, lest they distract her.

She also noticed from the map that they were currently very close to the edge of the Plateau. The ruined walls, failing to encase the border of the Plateau, offering quite the spectacular view through the breaches. Cautiously, she decided to bring herself nearer to the edge, and look upon the sprawling plains of Hyrule before her.

It was much of the same view she had first been greeted with upon awakening. Although, being able to see for miles without obstruction was something that Mipha hoped would never lose its majesty. Just like the previous day, the weather was clear, inviting and warm, and the seemingly endless miles in front of her seemed to condense into a landscape more picturesque than any painting.

Satisfied, another casual glance the derelict walls surrounding her served to catch her interest. Upon further inspection, the walls between the breaches looked perfectly intact, and in fine condition. This was most perplexing, seeing as the walls had crumbled in several locations, the damage clearly visible. The mismatch between conditions of different sections of the same wall was certainly jarring.

Seeing the collapsed bridge in front of the Shrine, and the other numerous examples of ruined stonework, served to hint at an explanation.

Distantly, Mipha could remember her companion revealing that the Kingdom of Hyrule had been laid to waste in a 'calamity'. It was, therefore, likely that she was observing the remnants of that event; an echo of the devastation that had occurred so very long ago, frozen in the patterns of destruction she could now witness.

She shuddered to think what kind of creature, or weapon of war, could be capable of wreaking so much havoc, especially in such a remote and fortified location as this. After all, no natural disaster would be so specific in its destruction.

Taking care to not step on any loose rubble or stones, Mipha leisurely ambled back towards the Shrine, gladdened to see that Wild had also taken advantage of the moment to savour the view. She quietly studied him, as he gazed unflinchingly at the horizon, his cloaked form cutting quite the stark figure, before the spell was broken, and he turned around to face her again.

Having taken the brief moment for all that it was worth, Mipha found herself ready to begin their journey towards the next Shrine. With an accompanying smile, she gestured her hand in the direction of the Tower.

''Shall we depart?'' Her tone was light, optimistic and eager.

Wild's grin was the only response she'd ever needed.

* * *

As Mipha took up the lead, following the Slate's direction, Link subconsciously placed himself into a guarding position; one where he could keep an ever vigilant eye on their surroundings, and, if necessary, come to his charge's aid in a heartbeat.

Mipha, of course, was having none of it, and firmly insisted that he walk at her side, instead. Link did not attempt to put up even token resistance at her decree, too elated as he was with her offer of closeness.

Still, he did not refrain from stealing glances at her every few steps. Their conversation had died down somewhat, so Link was content to simply observe and admire her in silence.

As his wistful gaze roamed over her once again, Link huffed out a rather dreamy sigh, transfixed by the fluidity of her walk. He savoured the view for a few more moments, before his mind began wandering towards more... _intimate_ thoughts.

He could still feel himself holding her so very closely, as he had before they'd entered the Magnesis Shrine, her touch having burned its imprint into his brain, still tingling in his palms. Even now, reflecting on their closeness in that moment threatened to bring a flush back to his face. How soft she had felt under his hands, how delicate... He had wanted nothing more in that moment than to reveal everything to her, to hold her and never let her go, to ensure that nothing would ever again harm her so long as he was protecting her...

Time had seemed to stand still, if only for one single, perfect moment, as they had gazed into each other's eyes. How very tempting it had been in that moment to kiss her...

The sound of Mipha politely clearing her throat elicited a rather unrefined startle, steering his mind away from any more indecent imaginings.

All of a sudden, Link realised that Mipha had addressed him, and that instead of responding, he'd continued staring blankly, too engrossed in his fantasies. Mortified, he flinched away, praying that his hood had disguised his more inappropriate musing.

Baffled, Mipha cocked her head, her tail swishing behind her in curiosity.

''Are... are you quite alright?'' she enquired.

''Of course!'' Link exclaimed, perhaps too eagerly, causing Mipha to blink, taken off guard by his enthusiasm.  
''Don't mind me, I pray.'' And Link _did_ pray. He prayed that Mipha did not discern the reason behind his distraction, as he berated himself again; truly, it was highly improper to think about her in such a way, so vulnerable as she was...  
''I was just lost in thought.'' He offered, which, of course, was technically true. Yet, he could never admit to her that she had been the topic of, and reason for, his distraction.

It just wouldn't be fair to her.

Still, Mipha at least appeared to take his explanation for what it was worth, a placid smile falling over her features. Heaving a sigh of relief, this one as silent as he could manage, Link could at least take solace in the fact that Mipha had shown such care by checking on his state for something so minor.

She always had been so very caring, especially towards him.

Still, it would simply not do for him to be so unprofessional in the future. He had a most sacred and important task in guarding her. If anything happened to her again...

No. He wouldn't think about it. 

~~He couldn't bear thinking about it.~~

So now, as he continued to watch her, he resolved to keep a grip on his own thoughts, and be more objective and analytical in his observations.

One thing he noticed almost immediately was that since leaving the last Shrine, Mipha's gait had improved. There was now almost a swagger about her, although he would never describe it as stemming from arrogance. Rather, her walk, her poise...

Since donning the necklace, being marked by the emblem of the Zora, Mipha had, possibly latently, gained an aura of regality around her. It was truly remarkable just how much impact the item had on her: Before, she had been reserved, nervous and quiet. Now, she seemed to glide along the land, elevated above such petty and trivial obstacles that lay before her...

Or, maybe that was his romanticism talking.

Nevertheless, there was undeniably a difference in her now; one that Link was most glad to see. Already she more closely resembled the woman from his memories, and Link took great joy in this minor, albeit significant, transformation.

After all, it meant that his plan was working.

* * *

After a few minutes of walking towards the Tower, Mipha had come to notice a few odd things inhabiting the plains of the Plateau. They truly were strange constructs, clearly mechanical in nature. The design of them, although ravaged and ruined by time, was reminiscent of the small automaton she had encountered in the Magnesis Shrine. Although, these were significantly scaled up, being far larger than both she and Wild were tall.

Much like in the Shrine, she could not even guess as to what purpose these machines had once served. However, she did not need to know to find the veritable graveyard of broken, twisted, sprawling machinery to be most disquieting. It was yet another indication that whatever civilisation had once prospered here had been utterly decimated.

Mipha found the implication of such tragedy rather upsetting, although she could not for the life of her understand why.

Even more disturbing was the fact that whenever she got within about thirty feet of one of the husks, Wild would, unfailingly, place himself between her and it. Observing his behaviour whenever he did so put Mipha on edge; he was always so very tense, so nervous. In one instance, the chirp of a nearby bird had caused his coiled body to spring at least five feet into the air.

Still, Mipha found herself incapable of seeing the humour in the moment, too off-put by Wild's skittishness.

When she inquired as to the reason behind his agitation, he'd ominously replied that it only took one unfavourable encounter with a Guardian to scar a person forever.

Mipha had shuddered at his grim warning, and refrained from asking further. If the hand she'd noticed rising to his stomach was indication, Mipha did not think he was speaking metaphorically.

Before long, they had reached the base of the Tower. Wild seemed to pay it little heed, but Mipha found herself fascinated by the great structure, and the seemingly similar ones that dotted the landscape. Furthermore, the soft blue glow emanating from it served to remind her of her own healing magic. She found herself soothed and settled from the association.

Whilst Mipha was distracted, Link decided to check the nearby ruined Bokoblin camps, in case any of them had made the foolish, and terminal, mistake of trying to re-inhabit them.

However, he was most relieved to note that the charred ruins he'd left in his wake were just as barren and empty as they had been after his last visit. Indeed, between indulging in light bouts of pyromania, Link had worked rather hard to purge the Plateau, and took comfort in the knowledge that he had performed such a service to a decently sufficient standard.

Mipha had noticed Wild wander off, although she trusted him to not stray too far from her. Naturally, when he reappeared in her view however, she didn't try to suppress the spark of warmth and relief his presence elicited.

''It's quite the view from the top.'' Wild began, cheerily. ''Plus, you can see all four Shrines on the Plateau from up there. Not that you'd need to, of course, with the Slate, but...'' He chuckled as he tailed off.

Mipha glanced back towards the Tower. In doing so, she noticed the almost ladder-like layout of the sides of the Tower. She realised that they were likely constructed in such a way to allow ease of climbing, seeing as she noticed no other way of reaching their summit. Even a Zora would be capable of scaling it with relative ease.

Still, Mipha thought that she'd spent enough time dawdling and informed her companion of such. Ever since learning of the Shrines, and being faced with proof of their value to her, the ever-present itch within her had been growing ever stronger with the urge to discover herself. Faced with the possibility of answers, Mipha found herself ever more impatient to realise it. In doing so, she would be glad to be rid of the frustration that dogged her every thought, her every attempt to recall who she was.

Setting off again, Mipha was glad that Wild seemed utterly unbothered by her redoubled pace, determinedly striding towards what she so desperately sought. Before long, they found themselves coming up on another set of ruins, with the tell-tale profile of a Shrine visible amongst the collapsed walls.

Navigating the almost maze-like corridors and rooms, avoiding the rubble strewn across the floor, Mipha eventually came across a clearing. Given the layout of the surrounding walls, Mipha inferred that this was likely once a large hall, but she could only guess as to its significance. Through an archway, she could see the reason for her pilgrimage to this once-hallowed site standing starkly, and silently, amidst the ruins.

Also in this clearing were several more ruined constructs, Guardians as Wild had called them. All of them were destroyed, not a hint of activity from them. Cautiously, she approached the centre of the room, where one Guardian was in a state of significantly higher disrepair than its brethren.

Whilst most of the others looked as if they had simply lost power, then slowly rusted away where they had fallen still, this one was different: The hull of the automaton had been seemingly blown apart, jagged cracks yawning open. Nearby lay its head, dented and deformed almost beyond recognition. Staring upwards was what Mipha assumed to be its eye, or the mechanical equivalent thereof, which had been shattered and ripped out of its socket, the wires that had once connected it strewn about the orifice. 

The more she looked, the more sure she became that whatever had caused this machine's destruction had been very deliberate.

Combined with the number of Guardians strewn about the makeshift courtyard, and the state of the former buildings, Mipha was beginning to wonder...

She turned to Wild, hoping for an explanation like usual, only to find him glaring daggers into the wreck before her, as if he was daring it to make a move, to prove it was not entirely dysfunctional. He had his sword half-drawn, as he cast a suspicious, and, dare she say, _fearful_ look around them. Alas, the ruins were as still as ever, nothing disturbing the eerie tranquillity of the dilapidated abbey except for themselves, much to Mipha's silent relief.

That is, until Wild began to monologue.

''It's quite ironic, isn't it?'' He posed rhetorically. ''That these machines, which were supposed to be our protectors, our salvation, our... _Guardians,_ if you will,'' He chuckled hollowly, and Mipha winced at the rattle in his chest.  
''Should become amongst the most devastating tools of the Calamity's destruction.''

Well, Mipha supposed. That would certainly explain a lot.

He looked as if he wanted to say more. Or perhaps, Mipha surmised, 'wanted' was not the correct word. It appeared as if simply being in the proximity of these usurped constructs was causing great distress to her companion. In that case, she thought, it would probably be a mercy for him if she were to hurry them along to the Shrine, and away from the Guardians, as soon as was physically possible.

After all, he had promised to take her to the Shrines, and he must have known that these Guardians were here in advance. She did not think that his obvious trauma would dissuade him now. Not after he'd already pledged his assistance to her.

He did not protest as Mipha brought him to the entrance of the second Shrine, for which Mipha was grateful. She took a moment to consider just how identical the external appearance of each Shrine was. In that case, it followed that the mechanism to unlock them would surely be the same?

Once they had stepped on the platform together, Mipha brought the screen of the slate to the pedestal as she had witnessed Wild do before. Internally, she was desperately hoping that there was not any other secret function or ritual one needed to perform first, otherwise she'd probably end up looking rather silly.

To her marked relief, however, the floor pulsed blue beneath them, and, with a grinding noise that still caused her to grit her teeth, the platform began to descend into the Shrine of Monk Ja Baij.

* * *

The interior of this second Shrine was certainly similar to the first; the soaring ceilings making Mipha feel utterly tiny. Still, she supposed that she could appreciate the fact that these Shrines seemed to be consistent in their internal décor, as well as their exterior.

Her Slate informed her that this Shrine was dedicated towards a 'Bomb Trial'. Likely, it was supposed to test the user's understanding of the remote bomb runes, just as the previous Shrine had done for Magnesis. Given the naming pattern of the previous two Shrines, it was probably a fair assumption to believe that the subsequent two Shrines would be trials for Cryonis and Stasis respectively.

Her companion had seemingly relaxed somewhat during their descent, which pleased Mipha immensely. Seeing him act in such a fearful, _traumatised_ way had been very difficult for her. The solemn weight that had dragged him down had caused an eerily similar reaction in Mipha's own mood. She was not too surprised to realise that seeing him in a despondent state had brought about sadness in herself, but the intensity of her reaction was certainly worth acknowledgement.

Her vehement desire to see him happy was most curious, indeed. 

Beyond a strange, glowing monolith to their left, there was little of interest in this first chamber, so Mipha, quite assuredly, paced forwards in the only direction they could progress.

As they came to the mouth of an artificial tunnel, Mipha couldn't help but notice the small stones and rocks strewn about her feet; she took great care not to tread on any of them, lest she inflict a most painful, and embarrassing, wound upon herself.

In that moment, hopping between numerous sharp needles of rock, Mipha was most jealous of her partner's rugged walking boots, as he followed her without care nor worry of the rocky caltrops beneath.

Nevertheless, they passed without incident. Faced with a split in the tunnel, Mipha looked both ways, noting how the path to the right took another turn back on itself, whilst the path to the left seemed to progress forwards.

For the sake of exhausting all available routes, Mipha investigated the right path, noting more of the pebbles and rubble strewn beneath her, before finding herself faced with another empty chest. 

Somewhat disappointed, not to mention frustrated, she hopped her way back through the makeshift minefield to try the other route.

Fortunately for her, before she was forced to participate in another round of spontaneous hopscotch, Wild, who had been witness to her struggles with a look of great sympathy, graciously offered to assist her through the more difficult terrain. Mipha, somewhat resignedly, decided that her dignity was not worth risking her feet being impaled, and took him up on his offer.

She was, however, rather taken aback when Wild, without another word, scooped her up into a bridal carry, as he stepped over the offending rocks. Mipha found herself emitting an involuntary squeak of alarm at his rather audacious actions, bringing her arms around his neck in reaction.

He chuckled darkly at her response, his voice rumbling in her chest, and Mipha forced herself to restrain the rush of heat his laugh left in its wake, phantom shivers running down her arms instead.

As he reached the base of a ladder, he deposited her with more care and gentleness than should be physically permitted. Mipha tried to glare at him, but found herself unable to hold his gaze, being forced to look away before the flush overtaking her face became too obvious.

Still, if Wild's chuckle was indication, her attempts of hiding her reaction were fruitless, much to her chagrin.

Mock-offended, Mipha knew that she could not allow this affront to stand, already plotting ways to exact her perry vengeance for the indignity, as she scaled the ladder behind him in mulish silence.

Perhaps trying to trip him up once again would serve as sufficient retribution? He certainly deserved it, she thought, for how infuriating his forced mysteriousness had been.

As they stepped onto a floating platform, that carried them over a minor gap, Mipha enquired in the most casual and disarming manner she was capable of:

''So... how many Shrines have you been inside of, exactly?'' Her tone was airy, yet undercut by a hint of steel. If her intuition was correct, she had him pinned down, and was not about to let him wriggle free.

She was most gratified to hear him stutter in response, practically choking on his breath. She hadn't been certain of her deduction until now, but his reaction had confirmed her suspicions quite damningly.

After a prolonged scrabble to compose himself Wild turned to look at her.  
''I'm sorry?'' He replied, guilelessly, and Mipha sighed, knowingly, utterly unconvinced by his performance.

Still, would it be crueller to explain her conclusion, or simply watch him flail for a few more entertaining moments, until he eventually caved? She huffed in amusement.

Yet, if it was information she desired, Mipha knew that he would be more likely to divulge some of his secrets if she informed him of just how impossible it was for him to continue to feign ignorance.

Although, she could not dispute that the mere fact that he had attempted to in the first place was extremely suspicious...

''Well, it was quite simple, really.'' She replied, half-teasingly, half-admonishingly. ''Between your proficiency with the Slate, not to mention the ease with which you unlocked the first Shrine, it was obvious that doing so is quite routine for you. Furthermore, with the evidence that these Shrines have already been disturbed by somebody, it seemed the only logical conclusion.''

Mipha watched silently, as the gears turned behind Wild's eyes, before she noticed his shoulders slump in defeat.

''Heh, well. I suppose it was rather foolish of me to think that I could get that past you.'' He conceded, giving her an acknowledging nod.  
''If you'll give me a moment to get off of this damned platform, then I'll explain how I've come to know so much about Sheikah technology.''

Only then did Mipha realise that the floor beneath them had continued its endless cycle back and forth across the gap, utterly uninhibited by their discussion. Internally, she found herself agreeing to his request, the indefatigable, repetitive motion of the platform beginning to dredge up her almost-forgotten teleportation sickness.

As the platform made one final transit, Wild crouched down in front of her, much to Mipha's bemusement.

''I thought you were protesting how I carried you over the previous rocks?'' He asked, only a shadow of the usual humour in what was supposed to be a light-hearted jibe.

Understanding his meaning, as well as his offer, Mipha silently, gratefully, clambered onto his back, curling her arms and legs around him as he escorted her into the main chamber of the Shrine.

* * *

As Link slowly shuffled ahead of Mipha, his mind was racing for any kind of satisfactory explanation for his uncanny knowledge. He tried to refrain from wasting the precious time he'd swindled on berating himself, although he still found himself frustrated with his sloppiness.

Still, as usual, he supposed that the best solution would be to tell her the truth; albeit, a heavily redacted version.

Gods damn him, he felt like such a scumbag every time he did this...

He turned back to look at her.

Mipha did not appear to be paying any of the intricate Sheikah mechanisms any notice, instead entirely devoting her attention to him, and his imminent explanation. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes had narrowed at him, and he couldn't control the pang of regret that her dissatisfaction would always inflict upon him.

''Quite a few.'' He replied simply, catching Mipha somewhat off-guard with his non-sequitur.

''Pardon?'' She asked, bewildered by his answer.

''How many Shrines I've been inside.'' Link responded, and comprehension dawned on Mipha's face.  
''I know how to use the Slate because I have used one before.'' Link continued. ''It belongs to a... _friend_ of mine, one who I've been rather... distant with, lately.'' He winced at his own words.

Mipha, bless her, noticed his obvious discomfort, likely inferring the connection between what he'd revealed before about the state of his former relationships, and his rueful disposition now, and did not seem inclined to probe further, and cause him further distress. Link's heart palpitated at her inherent display of compassion.

~~He doubted that she'd be so merciful if she knew that his estrangement was entirely his own fault.~~

''She possessed what I _had_ believed to be the only functional Sheikah Slate in existence.'' He sighed, forlornly.  
''I'm sure you can understand my surprise when I was confronted with the one you possess.''

Link knew that Mipha was smart enough to read between the lines and understand the implications of his story. He was tacitly giving her explanations to all of the observations she had made about him, about his expertise with Sheikah technology.

Still, he could always help her along to a few conclusions that he'd prefer her to reach, as opposed to finding out the truth too prematurely.

''The Shrines we explored together are all quite far from here.'' Which, again, was entirely true. Still, it wouldn't hurt to double down on this statement.  
''She did not ever take me down the Shrines on the Plateau. To my knowledge, she hasn't visited them either.''

He let that statement hang, hoping that Mipha would be able to draw her own conclusions from his misdirection.

It was quite funny, in a rather absurd way, to consider that the person who had taught him to misdirect others by telling a selective version of the truth had been Mipha's own brother, despite Sidon's disdain for it. From what Link remembered Pre-Calamity, he had held absolutely no concern for the petty sniping and cut-throat politicking of the courts, despite several of their unscrupulous schemes targetting him, preferring instead to focus solely on his duty, and allow his exemplary performance to speak in his stead. 

Now, however, with Zelda's reintroduction to society, he'd taken it upon himself to learn some of the more underhanded tricks employed at that level of discussion, for want of being able to support her in her endeavours.

He'd never thought that he'd end up using it for this purpose. Sidon would certainly admonish him quite strongly for it, to say the least...

He noticed the look of consideration on Mipha's face, and decided that a bit more persuasion would be beneficial. After all, one of the first things Sidon had taught him was that the most vital ingredient in any good lie was a healthy dose of the truth, preferably presented in a misleading manner.

''You're entirely correct in your observations that these Shrines have already been traversed.'' Link continued, bringing Mipha out of her reverie.  
''I think the most likely explanation is that whomever previously visited these Shrines, and left the necklace for you, is the same person who left you the Slate as well. It's probably safe to assume that, given the evidence in here, they would have left something at the end of this Shrine, too. Although, whomever might have done such a thing, and whatever their motivations are... I do not think I can say.''

Link willed his face to be as painfully neutral as possible, in hopes that Mipha would accept his hypothesis.

Mipha, for her part, seemed quite intrigued by the tale he was weaving; indeed she would find no direct contradictions in his story, and seemed unwilling to delve into his painful past for the sake of sating her curiosity. Link noticed the lines of stress easing around her brow, as her tension, and suspicion, seemed to abate slightly, for which he was markedly relieved.

Still, Link could tell that he was not entirely off the hook. He once again cursed his lack of subtlety: Mipha knew that whomever had left the items in the Shrines had left them specifically for her. If she were to combine that fact that it had been _his_ idea to visit the Shrines, after _he'd_ informed her of the Slate's ability to unlock them, well...

It was, at best, one hell of a suspicious coincidence.

At worst...

In any case, Mipha now turned her attention to the room they were in; the clockwork-like timing of the mechanism's movement causing a loud thud to reverberate off of the walls, marking a steady rhythm. It was stately, sedate and dignified, moving only in its own time, without any consideration of the panicked rushing of others. In that regard, Link rather envied it.

Mipha spied another opened chest in one corner of the room, before her attention was captured by a stone ball being volleyed back and forth by the extending pillars. It was strangely hypnotic to watch it sail so peacefully across the breach, again and again, moving only for the sake of not sitting still...

Looking to her right, Mipha only now noticed the movement of her companion; he'd clambered onto one of the stone pillars, and was eagerly anticipating the next cycle. Mipha's heart leapt into her throat.

With a deep thud, the stone _thrust_ Wild forwards, and he was sent sailing over the shallow chasm, towards the far side of the room, letting out a whoop of joy, which quite handily drowned out Mipha's gasp of horror.

The ground rushed up to meet him, and Wild crouched his legs, before landing and tucking himself into a ball, rolling forwards, and returning to his feet with a flourish.

He turned around and bowed to his audience, although Mipha's nerves were far too frazzled to give him a standing ovation for his stunt, utterly horrified by his lack of restraint.

It was then that she noticed a ladder leading from the floor to the platform on which he had just landed. She huffed another disbelieving sigh at his bizarre lack of consideration for the unnecessary danger his stunt had subjected him to, before scaling the ladder to return to his side.

Between the strange tubular mechanism opposite, and the small pebbles scattered about the landing area, Mipha inferred that the puzzle that had once resided here had likely utilised the mechanism to launch a bomb to clear the path forwards, the same way Wild had launched himself over the gap.

Still, it was of little consequence, seeing as this 'Trial' had already been completed. She then realised that she had not even needed to summon a single bomb to traverse the Shrine. 

She spared a thought for the poor people who had created this trial, so very long ago, only for it to be so thoroughly desecrated.

Although, if they were traversing it now, it was likely that whomever had first entered the Shrine had been forced to solve it the way the designers had intended. The realisation mollified her somewhat. She hoped that the architects would feel similarly.

Now, all that was left was a simple path to the Shrine's Dais. Link indicated for Mipha to take the lead, and allowed her to claim her reward herself.

Laid upon the altar was a piece of cloth, dyed sky blue. Mipha grasped it, and immediately noticed the luxurious silkiness of the material against her scales. She ran her hands along it, soothed by the pleasant sensation.

She turned it over, and there, embroidered in the silk was an unfamiliar pattern, as well as a strange symbol in the shape of a stylised quadrupedal creature of some kind. The animal seemed to possess an elongated nose, that drooped down from its face. Mipha did not know why, yet the image seemed... strangely cute.

Link took in Mipha's reaction with a pleased, placid expression; truly, Zelda had outdone herself in creating the replica. He would have to thoroughly express his gratitude to her for doing this for Mipha...

As Mipha inspected the sash further, she realised that it was generating some odd, conflicting emotions within her. She had already assumed that it must be of some importance to her, so she set about trying to discern it with a furious determination, practically throwing herself into the mental fog obscuring her past with reckless abandon. Her efforts were rewarded when she realised that looking upon the depiction of the creature was generating an inexplicable sense of nostalgia and longing, not unlike how she had felt after remembering that she had once possessed a family.

Just what was this strange animal to her? A pet? A companion? 

She was not quite sure.

Rather disquieting, those warm feelings were then replaced by something more insidious, more malevolent; Mipha found herself growing cold, and she repressed a shiver, as a dread started to creep up her spine. Paralysed, Mipha found her dread and anxiety growing, as it crept further upwards, past her heart, freezing her lungs in anticipation...

With it came an almost soul-crushing sense of regret, of longing, and, most damningly of all, of _failure..._

Mipha dropped the sash as if scalded by it, snapping herself out of her terror. Her reaction caused Link to flinch, shocked as he was by the nature of her response.

''Mipha?'' He tried cautiously, but she did not seem to hear him, as she curled up further into herself.

Petrified, Mipha froze, refusing to acknowledge any and all stimuli. Desperately, she prayed that, in doing so, whatever horror that was stalking her would leave her alone, wouldn't come back, _please, dear Hylia, don't let it find me..._

_Something loomed over her..._

A sudden touch pressed on her shoulder, and Mipha thought she might scream in terror, before she recognised her companion's hooded form. His touch managed to banish the cold that had invaded her body, as she felt the warmth emanating from his hand, soothing her more than she could ever possibly enunciate.

''Mipha? Are you alright, my dear?'' He asked, and Mipha's stomach sank at the worry in his voice.

''I... I'm not sure...'' she replied, shaken, and Wild glanced at her, then at the sash, unmoved from where she had dropped it.

Cautiously, he picked it up, and Mipha felt her heart jolt. Alas, whatever curse that had afflicted her did not seem to affect him, as he eyed it with curiosity, and confusion.

Mercifully, he did not probe into Mipha's state of mind, although she doubted that she would be able to explain her simultaneous feelings of pride and shame in any sensible way. Still, she made no offer to take the sash back, but was even less reluctant to abandon it, not after it had evoked such strong feelings from her.

Ultimately, strong feelings, even negative ones, were still clues to her identity. Clues she could not afford to squander, given their scarcity. 

Others might think it foolish, but Mipha found herself willing to risk the possibility of uncovering more unpleasant, or even traumatic, memories, if they were the price she needed to pay to find answers. Besides, the more she thought, the more she suspected that the reason for her amnesia would not be so benign.

Upon their first meeting, her companion had lamented her meeting such a 'terrible fate'. Perhaps his ominous analysis was more accurate than she ever could have known.

Watching the sash disintegrate as Wild stored it within the Slate was, without a doubt, the most poignant experience Mipha could consciously remember.

Their trek back through the Shrine occurred without note, beyond a few brief piggyback rides. Mipha still found the indignity of the act smarting, but at least it wasn't quite as humiliating as that first incident. Even then, the physical pain of having to dig stones out of her feet would surely override any mental discomfort, so it would be most unbecoming of her to complain.

As the elevator began to rise, and with it Link and Mipha, the most prominent thoughts running through Mipha's mind were curiosity and exasperation at yet another mystery she had uncovered.

* * *

As they reached the surface once again, Mipha did not voice her complaints at Link's clearly harried pace; she knew that he was glad to leave these ruins behind him, and apparently did not begrudge it, much to his appreciation.

Once the Abbey was a comfortable distance behind them, Link slowed his pace to a leisurely stroll, prompting Mipha to match him.

She'd already brought up the Slate's map, ever eager to tackle the next Shrine. Link supposed he should show his encouragement for her enthusiasm. However, it would also fall to him to inform her of the obstacles that now faced them.

Always loath to be the bearer of bad news, Link at least attempted to sound conciliatory in his address:

''Well, my dear, I'm afraid we might have a problem.''

He'd certainly managed to capture her attention with that, although she politely refrained from responding immediately, allowing him a chance to elaborate; one which Link accepted.

''The nearest Shrine from here lies at the top of a steep cliff. One that I doubt you would be capable of scaling.'' He was not being cruel, nor dismissive in his assessment, merely pragmatic. Indeed, if there happened to be a Shrine located under the deepest part of Lake Hylia, he would certainly be incapable of reaching it, at least without some _very_ specialised equipment.

His ignorance of sickness teleportation induced was really starting to bite him in the arse now, and Link admonished himself for the stupid, _stupid_ oversight.  
''The other is not quite so inaccessible,'' he continued, carefully aware of her response, ''However it is located in the frigid environment of the mountain's peak.''

It did not require stating that the prospect of risking Mipha's health to the bitter cold was, unquestionably, not an option he'd even dare consider.

There was, however, a method for them to scale the mountain in (relative) safety from the insidious cold; one that Mipha had already been made aware of...

Mipha's face shifted to unease, before breaking out in ill-repressed disgust at the notion of consuming spice.

Still, he would leave the choice up to her; he would allow her at least the dignity and freedom of choosing her own poison.

But, would it be too obtrusive of him to provide his own opinion?  
''If you want my suggestion,'' Link interceded, ''If you _truly_ desire to put off teleporting for as long as possible, then it would be most prudent to tackle the Shrine on the mountain, after some, uh... 'protective measures'.'' The fact that Mipha offered no response to his euphemism was not a good sign...

In fact, she hadn't offered much in the way of a response since he'd began talking, seemingly engrossed in her own contemplations as she was.  
''Alternatively,'' Link offered, resignedly, ''I could visit those Shrines by myself, and bring back whatever I find within them to you?'' Perhaps in giving her this out, he could keep her as comfortable as the situation would allow.

''No!'' The vehemence of Mipha's response startled him. ''I mean... pardon my outburst.'' Mipha took a moment to compose herself, visibly admonishing herself for her momentary loss of control.  
''But I would much rather succeed in this quest myself, as opposed to sending another to complete it in my place. Even if doing so requires that I endure some minor discomfort.''

Link couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face; she always had been so independent, so unwilling to allow herself to be lazy. Truthfully, he did not know why he'd even offered in the first place. On a slightly deeper level, however, Link implicitly understood that this journey was Mipha's quest, not his. More crucially than that, this was a quest for her very identity, a quest for answers, and, in this particular story, he was only ever going to amount to an assistant, never the protagonist. He would be most remiss to steal this opportunity from her, indeed.

''I believe that the plan you have outlined is satisfactory.'' She continued, showing him that she had been paying attention to his suggestions, much to his internal glee.  
''If consuming spice is the toll that the mountain demands...'' Mipha continued, before straightening her shoulders and steeling her resolve, ''Then it is one that I _shall_ pay.'' Her conviction flared up as she met his gaze. In her eyes, Link could see the reflection of his awe and respect lavishing her in his admiration.

It might seem insignificant, but Link knew better. In that declaration, Mipha had shown the true strength of her character, the strength of her desire for answers. He supposed that he'd had his fair share of 'character defining moments' to look back upon. In retrospect, this could turn out to be _the_ pivotal moment in Mipha rediscovering her confidence; the moment that paved the way to her reclaiming her past...

''Works for me.'' He replied, frivolously. ''I was starting to get hungry, anyway.''

If Mipha held any offence to his facetious attitude undercutting her momentous moment, Link did not notice it.

Although, that would only be because he whirled around before he could appreciate her delayed sigh, before she directed an ired gaze into his back. Blinking slowly, Mipha exhaled again, before deigning to follow him Westwards.

* * *

As they walked, a brief interlude of silence fell over the pair.

The Sun was now higher in the sky. If Link's estimate was correct, it was briskly approaching noon.

Instead of allowing his thoughts to drift aimlessly, he kept his mind focussed on Mipha, and her current state.

Whatever had occurred in the Ja Baij Shrine had shaken her, and left him unsettled as a result. He couldn't help but notice that she had been rather quiet since their departure. He suspected that she was ruminating over whatever she had latently recalled about her Champion's Sash.

Link empathised greatly with her struggle; truly, there had been little more frustrating than the knowledge that whatever answers one was seeking were _right there,_ seemingly within one's grasp, only to shy away from every attempt to reach them. In fact, it was one that still bothered him now. Although, at this point, he'd resigned himself to the fact that there would be many memories that he would never recover. 

But still, the fact that he could not even remember his parents' faces would continue to hurt.

It was the reason behind his jesting antics: he had hoped that in projecting an humorous, _silly_ persona, he might be able to raise her spirits, or, at the very least, distract her from some of the more unenviable frustrations that amnesia brought. Although, if Mipha's continued silence was indication, perhaps that hope had been erroneous.

It was fortuitous, then, that Link's own ruminations bore fruit, as he considered another angle with which to approach her.

''I seem to recall you mentioning that you were having trouble with your magic?'' Link posed, somewhat out of the blue, causing Mipha's head to snap towards him.

Taken aback by the sudden topic, she found herself giving an automatic reply out of politeness:

''Yes. I remember you saying that you wanted to revisit the issue.'' Mipha said. Once again, her curiosity had been piqued; given her companion's track record, she did not think it foolish to believe that he might be about to offer her some advice, pertaining to her struggles.

Her internal affairs aside, she would highly appreciate being offered more insight about herself, and her wondrous power.

''Well, I was just wondering...'' Link shrugged with a hum. ''You managed to heal me without any difficulty yesterday. I wonder why you were unable to replicate that performance upon yourself.''

Indeed, Mipha had considered this exact point. She would admit that the discrepancy was most vexing.

''In my experience,'' Link continued, as nonchalantly as he was capable of. He didn't want to give away the sheer magnitude of his investment in her progress to her, lest he invite further suspicion.  
''Magic tends to react very strongly to our internal states, our emotions.''

Giving Mipha a chance to consider his words, he followed on from his previous statement smoothly.  
''Can you remember how you were feeling when you healed me?''

Mipha cast her mind back. She recalled the memory the discovery of her powers had unlocked, the small boy she had healed of a minor scrape. Focussing intently, she replayed the scene in her head, and attempted to understand the sentiments that had coursed through her in tandem with her power. It was so very unsettling to be witness to one's own memories as almost a third, neutral observer, but Mipha powered through her doubts, too enticed by the prospect of progress.

With a burst of inspiration, an answer presented itself to her:

She had been thinking about how sad, how hurt, how afraid the poor boy had looked. Her heart had ached at his pain alone. Then, as if her empathy was not already enough, she had considered just how devastated she would be if it were her brother in his place; how his pain would induce a similar suffering within herself. How she would desire nothing more than to soothe his troubles away, with her love and care...

In response to her emotions, her power had reacted, and the boy's wounds had vanished without trace.

''It...'' Mipha had choked up with disbelief, as well as the weight of emotion she had recalled, crushed under the immense mass of love that she had not even realised she was capable of experiencing.  
''Is it truly that simple?'' She wondered, aloud, before turning to view her hands.

When they began to glow blue, and the soothing sensation suffused into her body, banishing the lingering remnants of nausea from before, Mipha was too engrossed in her own joy and bittersweet agony to notice the tears pricking at not only her eyes, but her companion's as well.

''How did you know?'' She asked, enthralled by the control she could now exhibit, as her power flared on command.

''I guess I had a feeling.'' Was Link's reply.

Despite his teasing words, Mipha couldn't detect a hint of smugness in his tone.

* * *

As they continued west, their path inevitably brought them towards the Temple of Time.

Or rather, Link snorted, what was left of it.

Nevertheless, he would admit that there was still a humbling majesty to the ruin that it had become. It therefore did not surprise him that Mipha was so enamoured with the buildings.

So enchanted was Mipha, that she practically demanded the opportunity to visit it. It appeared that even amnesia could not prevent her from being caught in the building's spell, and left awestruck.

Link could not resent her for it; he'd had a similar reaction himself upon awakening, after all.

Still, he hoped that he hadn't made his discomfort too apparent. At least if Mipha did notice, he hoped that she would attribute it to the wrecked Guardians littering the ruins.

Mipha found herself giving cursory investigations to the ensemble of smaller buildings, but it was obvious that her true interest lay in the best preserved building amongst the rubble.

Link did not believe it was a coincidence that the only building that had even partially withstood the Guardians' assault had been the chamber with Hylia's statue. Even more amazingly, the statue itself seemed to have suffered no more damage than a century's accumulation of moss.

How incredibly fortuitous indeed, he spat, mockingly.

As Mipha brought herself into that sacred room, Link, found himself hovering at the doorway, unwilling to abandon her, yet equally unwilling to approach the statue any further, for the perhaps preposterous fear of retaliation.

Once, he had thought that the statue had been smiling down upon him.

Now, he knew better. He saw through the facade, the ruse. An empty smile, not conveying warmth, or love, but rather the polite expression one dons when requesting something unreasonable of another. Something that You have no right to ask.

Something that You could, _and should,_ have solved by Yourself.

He blinked away his frustration. 

He had come here for Mipha, to support her on her impromptu pilgrimage. His own opinions on the matter were irrelevant.

Speaking of Mipha, Link watched, silently, as she dropped to her knees and offered a short, respectful prayer to the statue.

Alas, there was to be no Divine Retribution handed out on that day, and the room remained peaceful and still. Link, although not knowing what he was possibly expecting, or rather _dreading,_ let out an enormous sigh of relief. Still, when Mipha returned to his side and exited the chamber without a word, Link couldn't help one last glance over his shoulder.

The statue's expression remained unchanged.

* * *

The main chamber firmly behind them, Wild insisted on setting up a small camp in one of the inferior antechambers situated beneath the large room, much to Mipha's bemusement.

Still, he'd expressed surprise at her paying her respects to the great statue before. She supposed that she shouldn't begrudge him his rituals in return.

Indeed, she had been quite amused by the significance he seemed to be paying to their lunchtime preparation.

Then again, she supposed that it was as good of a place as any to stop for lunch. The woeful, tragic tale of the surrounding ruins aside, the setting was quite magnificent.

All of her good cheer vanished, however, when Wild used the Slate to summon their prepared lunch.

To say that Mipha was apprehensive about the forthcoming meal would be a grave understatement. Truthfully, she would admit to being quite afraid. The sharp tang of the spice invaded her olfactory receptors, and her eyes began to water in a psychosomatic response, as the culinary horror approached...

Mipha sighed. Whatever possibly traumatic memories lay beyond the fog of her amnesia involving peppers, they would do her no good when her fins froze over and snapped off. Being melodramatic was not helping anyone, least of all herself. Besides, compared to the mortal terror she had experienced in a previous vision, she could surely overcome this aversion, and stomach the meal that her companion had worked so hard to prepare.

Even if it _was_ a waste of perfectly good fish.

Remembering her prior declaration, she mustered all of her considerable willpower. Mipha forced herself to not retch, as she brought the foul concoction to her mouth, and sunk her serrated fangs into the seared skin of the fish.

The noise that escaped Mipha's throat embodied her shock, and almost bordered on _indecent._ It was certainly a breach of propriety. In perhaps any other circumstance, the shame Mipha would have experienced at being the source of such a noise would have likely consumed her entirely. As it happened, however, she was far too engrossed in the myriad of flavours that assaulted her taste buds.

The spice was certainly present. However it was almost entirely overpowered by the natural flavours and aromas inherent to the fish and steak. The carnivore in Mipha sang in rapturous elation, as she devoured the meat with vigour. The herbs Wild had collected sought to enhance the flavour of the meat, and they too were promptly consumed. The spice that should have been the source of intense discomfort instead melded with the taste of the dish, supplementing the food with a much needed kick.

As the food settled in her stomach, a warmth emanated from Mipha's core; the cold resistant properties of the crop immediately took effect, and she basked in the glow in a similar way as she basked in the soothing embrace of her magic.

Lamenting the fact that she had finished her meal, Mipha finally began to notice the less pleasant effect of the spice. An unsavoury tingling persisted in her mouth and throat, as the remnants of the spice clung to her receptors. Wordlessly, she stood up and brought herself to the bucket of fresh water Wild had collected, in an attempt to wash away the lingering aftertaste.

After being only moderately successful, she returned to the stone platform upon which they had sat. The mossy surface tickled her legs as she sat down next to her companion, benefactor, protector and now, seemingly, personal master chef. Any person who was capable of convincing a Zora to _willingly_ consume spicy peppers and, even more impressively, have them _enjoy_ it, was surely worthy of whatever accolades Mipha could bestow. 

Her re-emergence had interrupted her companion's routine of cleaning and storing away the dishes, and before he could return to his mundane, albeit necessary task, Mipha spoke in a measured voice:

''If I may ask, where exactly did you learn to cook like that?'' Her curiosity evident in her words. Mipha gazed at his hooded face, searching for signs of discomfort, or misdirection that would indicate another sore topic.

To her relief, she found none as he appeared to consider her question for a moment, before snorting amusedly.  
''Believe it or not,'' he answered, ''Trial and error.''

His answer failed to satisfy Mipha, although, to his credit, he realised this and decided to elaborate.  
''I attempted many, many, _many_ dishes before I perfected that one. Not all of them were as... _palatable_ as your reaction indicated, I can assure you.'' Mirth pervaded his voice.

Mipha was horrified. So he had noticed her improper response after all. Her curiosity was replaced by shock and then shame, as she furiously considered ways to salvage her ruined reputation.

Thankfully, her companion did not wish to elaborate any further. Since their first meeting, in every interaction, Mipha had felt so sorely exposed to him, but, in his mercy, he did not seem to be one to press her slips and blunders.

Mipha still did not think that he realised the true magnitude of her thankfulness for that fact. She should probably express her gratitude for his limitless tolerance sooner, rather than later...

With a chuckle and a wave, he dismissed her worries. Then, he stood and beckoned her onwards. After all, they still had two Shrines left to explore.

As Mipha followed behind him, a newfound spring in her step, she noted how the warm tingling in her stomach had arisen to an almost distracting level. She wasn't sure if the effect was solely due to the peppers.

Still, if her companion's warnings were to be heeded, she would not take any excess warmth for granted, as they set off for the snow-capped mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in light of recent events, I'd just like to offer my support to all those going through difficult times.
> 
> I hope that my stories might provide some measure of relief, in an increasingly chaotic and uncertain world.
> 
> I highly encourage any comments you might have; the chance to engage with readers on this story is always a joy, and the praise I have received is such wonderful motivation to continue writing.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	9. Shatter Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Once again, my apologies that this is late, but, from the length of the page, it might be obvious that this was a long one.  
> One that I really wanted to do right.
> 
> Nevertheless, it's here now.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Thanks once again to aviatordame for being the best beta-reader in the world. Go read their stuff if you haven't. In fact, even if you have read it, go read it again. It's really good. :)

### Chapter 9: Shatter Point

### 

Not long after leaving the ruins that had sheltered them for their lunch, Mipha found herself faced with yet another ruin: a crumbling wall supporting an archway that was surely a mere shadow of its former self.

She could not tell what purpose the structure had once served; there were no surrounding buildings, or anything of the like. As far as she could infer, the structure was purely decorative, although whatever significance it might have once held was lost on her.

Through the arch, however, she could see her next target awaiting her, on the peak of a snowy outcrop. The Shrine emitted the same soft, blueish glow that she'd come to associate with Sheikah constructs, and Mipha found her anticipation only growing now that her destination was finally within sight.

However, despite the enticing prospect of yet another artefact that would surely be of personal significance, she found herself battling with a rising frustration: The toll, not to mention the indignity, of being forced to hike to all corners of this desolate Plateau, in order to undertake puzzles that had already been solved, was starting to grate on her...

Not that she made any external indication of her vexation.

Indeed, It would not do to show her hand too early...

For some time now, Mipha had been harbouring a lingering suspicion that her visitation to these Shrines was perhaps not as integral as she had initially believed, which had only redoubled after her companion's confirmation that other people had access to them before her awakening. After all, if the trials within them had already been completed, then, quite simply, she could not have been the one they had intended to examinate, the one the Shrines had been constructed for.

Which only led her to the question of _why:_ Why was she was being forced along on this merry little quest?

Of course, Mipha knew the answer from her own perspective: These Shrines held the promise of clues to her identity, her only link to her previous life. Her only path forwards in an expansive land that was, ironically, beginning to feel rather linear, and constrained. 

What she did not know, however, was why anybody would have gone through the effort of setting things up in such a pointlessly elaborate manner. What anyone else had to gain from her befuddled, inelegant wanderings. What anyone else had to gain from leaving a veritable trail of crumbs for her to dutifully and unquestioningly follow, for lack of any other alternative route to recover her identity; the identity that she yearned for in the way that only someone who has been robbed of theirs ever could...

She turned to face Wild.

''Well, there's Shrine number three!'' He pointed out, helpfully, before pausing, and turning to his pack, much to Mipha's gentle curiosity. 

He rummaged for a moment, before withdrawing another billowing cloak, similar to the one that shrouded himself, and an unlit torch, before presenting the cloak to her with a grin. She found herself taking the offered item by instinct, having once again been disarmed by his smile.

''From this point onwards,'' he continued, glancing through the broken gateway, ''Things get cold _fast._ '' He punctuated the word by striking a piece of flint against his blade, causing a shower of sparks to fly onto the torch.

To their mutual surprise, the sparks took hold, and, before long, the torch was burning a steady, sustainable, flame. The orange embers of the fire flickering and scattering from the head of the torch invoking a feeling of warmth within Mipha's chest, that was complimented by the effects of the spice still present in her system.

Sighing indulgently at Wild's endearing display of muted glee at his accomplishment, Mipha supposed that it would be most rude of her to reject his gift, and donned the cloak with a flourish of fabric, touched again by his boundless generosity. Once she had been wrapped in its embrace (after a brief moment of adjustment to allow easy access to her spear), she immediately noted the softness of the material, as well as the heat that it retained. She even found herself admitting that she could certainly understand why her companion sought to wear them so often...

Nevertheless, she knew that she appreciated the freedom of her scales far more than any article of clothing. These were extenuating circumstances, however, and she found herself happy to make an exception.

She was immediately grateful for her decision, for the moment they passed through the archway, a vengeful gust of frigid air assaulted them both, causing their clothing to flap, and their gait to stagger. Wild's torch was not unfazed, being forced to bear the brunt of nature's ire, but the flame stubbornly held on, defiantly refusing to be extinguished.

Mipha had been unprepared for the sheer bite that she had just experienced, and pulled the cloak tighter around herself in an attempt to conserve her warmth, and shield her face further. Naturally, Wild noticed her distress, to her lack of surprise, yet Mipha was most grateful when he drew closer to allow her to bask in the warmth of the flame he held aloft.

Mipha was sadly unsurprised to find another inactive Guardian, amidst the ruins of a hut of some kind. She was more surprised to find a makeshift raft awaiting them, on the shore of the river that bisected the landscape before them, however she was not about to complain; she knew far better than to attempt swimming in water as icy as this.

In her experience, the previous Shrines had been temperate, but not nearly enough to offset the chill of the forbidding waters that surged in front of her.

Wild seemed pleased when she stepped onto the raft without complaint. As he handed her the still-burning torch, he grabbed a comically oversized leaf from the floor of the raft, and smirked as he quipped at her off-handedly:

''Aye. It's not called the 'River of the Dead' for nothing, you know?''

Mipha did not quite know what to make of that, and so she deigned not to answer. Despite that, she couldn't help but look into his words, try to analyse or dissect them for some subliminal meaning. Alas, if there was a riddle to figure out there, Mipha did not yet possess the clues to unravel it. Wild seemed unbothered by her silence, and he began the task of wafting air into the raft's sail with his leaf, steadily propelling their ship across the deadly waters below.

Before long, they had crossed the river without incident, and Wild moored the raft up on the shore, before receiving his torch back from Mipha. Without word, they set off towards the Shrine, heedless of the mournful howling of the winds battering them.

* * *

Walking along the riverbank, Mipha attempted to keep her mind and thoughts occupied, lest she be forced to dwell on the frozen ground underfoot robbing her of body heat with every step she took.

Wild seemed to be leading her towards the edge of the Plateau, and Mipha had been watching the flow of the water steadily increase, until it was no longer a gentle, meandering flow, but rather a frothing, roiling riptide. The water accelerated relentlessly forwards, until it came to a precipice, beyond which, the world fell away...

Mipha realised that she was looking at a waterfall.

She was woefully unprepared for the spike of hope, the promise of freedom, that coursed through her like a lightning bolt, electrifying her nerves. After having lamented being confined to this Plateau, she was now faced with an egress; a chance to leave this _prison_ that had trapped her, a chance to explore, to find her own way back to where she belonged, wherever that might be. To be free of this farcical quest, that she had so recently scorned...

She then noticed that Wild had also cast his eyes to the river, to where the water was mercilessly surging over the crest of the waterfall, before plummeting towards oblivion. He seemed to be switching his gaze from the river, back to her, then back to the river once more...

Mipha quickly realised that, for whatever reason yet unknown to her, he had paused. The slow puffs of moisture of his breath spiralling away into the atmosphere, her only indication that he had not spontaneously frozen solid in the chilly air.

Perhaps, Mipha hypothesised, he had come to the same realisation as herself: That the inherent ability of a Zora would permit her to traverse this cascading flow without fear, nor risk of injury, no matter how far she would have to fall...

But, of course, being an Hylian, he would never be able to follow her...

That very realisation managed the almost impossible, in that it instantly transformed all of the hope, the joy, the notion of freedom, that seeing the waterfall had elicited in her into a dour sense of guilt and obligation. She simply _couldn't_ abandon him here. Not after he'd been so incredibly welcoming, so _damn_ hospitable to her, in spite of everything...

She approached him slowly, and managed to find his arm, beneath the sprawling fabrics, and gripped it firmly within her hands.

''I hope that you know,'' She began, gazing imploringly at him, before nerves got the better of her once more. Nevertheless, after a brief pause to compose herself, she tried again:  
''I hope you know that I would _never_ just abscond, and abandon you here.''

Only now, after she had already committed herself to remaining, did she consider the benefits to staying on the Plateau, at least until she had visited every Shrine. After all, despite how unnecessarily convoluted this process was, she could not deny the fact that the items left within each Shrine had been clues left _specifically_ for her, and _had_ invoked feelings of familiarity. Not to mention the relative security and stability she currently benefited from, that she would have to sacrifice if she were to venture off alone. As frustrating as she found it, remaining was her most logical course of action. Besides, there was always the chance that whatever she found in the remaining Shrines would grant her either answers, or even possibly memories, ambivalent as she was about her previous recollections...

She then considered what he'd told her, about how he'd lost everyone he'd ever cared for before coming here. She hoped that it wasn't too arrogant of herself to consider that, in their brief time together, _she_ had also become important to him, just as he had to her. In that moment, as they had stared out into the abyss, he must have been wondering if she, too, would leave him, like everyone else in his life supposedly already had.

Mipha found her chest aching at the mere consideration of the guilt, the regret, and the _loss_ that he must have experienced.

She then resolved herself to _never_ become a cause to exacerbate that wound.

Still, she was not so engrossed as to not notice his own hand sneaking out of his cloak to capture her own. He gripped her with a force that was only just shy of becoming painful, yet Mipha did not complain; she could not bring herself to perform any action that could shatter his suddenly fragile state even further.

She was forced to strain her ears to make out what he was saying, swamped as it was by the whistling of the wind, and churning of the waters, that continued to whip around them, compounded by the fact that his voice was barely above even a whisper:

''Thank you, Mipha... Just... Thank you.''

If Wild had been forced to blow his nose, and wipe his eyes, after that statement, then Mipha would not know, having been courteous enough to ignore the ignoble noises, for the sake of his dignity. 

The noise of the waterfall was rather distracting, as a matter of fact...

* * *

Once he was sure that Mipha was not about to abandon him, Link recovered remarkably quickly, and made haste towards the next Shrine.

He led Mipha up a great embankment of snow, turning every few steps to make sure that she was still following, that she hadn't disappeared, that her form hadn't vanished once again into a wreath of ghostly flames, as she had so many times before...

It brought him immeasurable relief every time, to note that she was still following behind him. Just as real, and as tangible, as he himself was, and would remain. In doing so, however, he could plainly see the discomfort on her face, as her bare feet bore the brunt of the cold.

He winced sympathetically. Between the heat of the peppers, and the warmth of his flame, she was not in any danger of frostbite, yet it would surely not be a particularly _pleasant_ sensation. Of that, he was quite certain.

In his musings, he realised that it would have made much more sense to offer her some footwear beforehand. He had acquired a pair of snow-resistant footwear in his adventures. Unfortunately for them both, those boots were likely stored with the rest of his deposited equipment, in his house in Hateno Village. It was especially aggravating, because those boots would have also helped with another of the issues that faced them on the mountain...

Gods damn him and his forgetfulness.

After turning towards her _yet again,_ unable as he was to keep his gaze away from her, he managed to catch her, before her sudden loss of traction could send her sprawling to the ground.

As he hauled her back upright, he tried to play off his malaise with humour, and a chiding warning:  
''You need to watch your footing, my dear. These slopes can be quite treacherous.''

Mipha seemed quite unimpressed with the warning that had come far too late to be of any use to her. Still, as he balked under her scrutiny, he at least hoped that his disquiet hadn't been _too_ obvious to her.

_Oh, who was he kidding? She knew him better than anyone. She'd been able to see through every facade he'd erected in the past. Why should this be any different?_

He sighed, and turned around once more, before she could grace him with a response.

As the climbed further, Link noticed Mipha's fascination with the ruined walls that were present even this far up the Plateau. He looked on, with no small amount of reverence, as she took in the sight of the Gerudo Highlands to the west. Indeed, the stark, sandy cliffs were rather striking...

But not nearly as striking as the woman who was observing them.

He shook himself from his own mental wanderings, as Mipha seemed to grow bored with the view, and continue on after him. Although, he realised that it was likely nothing to do with boredom, and more to do with the general inhospitality of their surroundings.

Turning another few corners on their spiralling ascent eventually brought them past the ruins of a former Bokoblin camp. However, the fallen log and long-since burned out campfire were worth little attention, so they passed without incident, nor conversation.

With the summit, and the Shrine, now tantalisingly close, Link noticed Mipha picking up her pace. Granting mercy on her poor, frozen feet, he decided that jogging the rest of the way up would not be a terrible idea.

Somewhat impatiently, Mipha rushed into the shelter of the Shrine, and placed the Slate to the pedestal with a noise loud enough to make Link wince. Of course, he _knew_ that the Slate was quite sturdy; Nayru knows that _he_ had put the poor thing through its fair share of abuse, yet the almost _clumsy_ nature of Mipha's movements managed to induce some shock in him. After all, he could hardly remember ever seeing her act in such a... graceless manner, even in conditions far more adverse than these.

Either that, or he'd latently adopted some of Zelda's scholarly attitude towards priceless relics. She had, on _numerous_ occasions, berated him for not showing more respect to her artefacts, much to his bewilderment, and mortification.

Regardless, the Slate continued to function without so much as a scratch, and the platform began to descend into the depths of the Keh Namut Shrine.

As it did, Link could only express his gratitude once again to whichever Ancient Sheikah that had possessed the forethought to make the Slate durable.

* * *

When the platform finally came to rest, Mipha found herself in yet another cavernous chamber. True to her prediction, the Slate informed her that this was the 'Cryonis Trial', and she set her expectations accordingly, switching to the Cryonis rune pre-emptively.

Internally, she mused just how appropriate it was to have the Cryonis Trial located in such a cold climate. Despite the Shrine's name, however, the internal temperature was rather mild, a far cry from the wintry exterior, for which Mipha was extremely grateful. She could already start to feel warmth flooding back into her feet, causing them to tingle most unpleasantly. Still, it was a reassuring sign nonetheless, and a symptom she could easily ignore, for the sake of progress.

Stepping forwards, she immediately noticed a small pool of shallow water, barely deep enough to wet her ankles. She did not know why, but a similar discomfort to that she had experienced in the Magnesis Trial arose within her. The water had the same fresh scent, yet tainted by a slight metallic tint...

For whatever reason, she found it quite unsettling. In fact, that was a sensation she was experiencing with a startling regularity. It ired her to no end that she still could not begin to fathom why she kept experiencing such unpleasant responses to seemingly innocuous stimuli.

Through the Slate, she noticed how the screen appeared to project a veritable column, rising several feet from the surface of the water. Most intrigued, Mipha tapped the screen, activating the rune.

In his demonstrations, Wild had not yet shown off the effects of the Cryonis rune to her; she found herself most intrigued to witness its effects first hand.

She was perhaps not prepared for just how accurate the Slate's projection would become, as a sizeable block of ice promptly sprung into existence before her, much taller than she was, and wide enough for both her and her companion to stand on, if only barely. The speed at which it had appeared was most startling, and she found herself inadvertently flinching away from the flash-freeze.

Mipha could not explain why, yet the sight of this block of ice spontaneously rising in such an unnatural formation from such a shallow pool of water was _deeply_ disquieting. As she moved in closer to examine the protrusion, only then did it become clear just how magical this creation truly was.

An unusual, asymmetric pattern was present, etched into faces of the rectangular block. It seemed to pulse in a steady rhythm, slowly growing dimmer, then brighter again, as the Cryonis rune sought to bind the magic holding this construction together, against all of nature and reason, that would mandate it to fall apart again.

As Mipha approached to touch it, she was rather surprised to note that the surface was not at all cold. Instead, the ice felt rather insulated, even _warm_ to the touch. Mipha dismissed the paradoxical sensation as yet another quirk of the magic at work before her.

However, as her hand made contact, the block of ice seemed to _thrum,_ the pattern on the block brightening to an almost _painful_ degree, scorching her eyes, and searing itself into her retina where it remained. 

Mipha jumped back, a yelp escaping her, as she desperately inspected her hand for any burns. Wild, who had been rather quiet until now, rushed over to her. Mipha could see his fear and confusion written starkly on his face, not to mention how his hands twitched, practically _demanding_ to be given the chance to inspect her for any damage himself.

Alas, her hand was unblemished, and there seemed to be nothing else detrimental to her forthcoming. In the silence of the Shrine, Mipha could hear her frantic pulse steadily decreasing to a more suitable rate.

With a shrug, and a sigh, she doffed the cloak Wild had provided her with. After all, she reasoned, it would have no real purpose within the confines of this Shrine. She would, of course, don it again before they left, but she found herself wanting to take advantage of the brief freedom of her scales that the Shrine had offered her.

Furthermore, she huffed, it would be most inconvenient if she managed to get the cloak wet, before their egress. That would surely only exacerbate the mountain's chill, she knew.

This was not the most prevalent focus in her mind however; once again, she had experienced a significant reaction to a certain stimulus, with absolutely no way of understanding the reasoning behind it. Perhaps, in another time, she would have meditated on that familiar frustration, however, in this moment, she resolved to postpone that inevitable consideration.

Besides, she reflected, it was entirely possible that whatever she discovered within this Shrine would give her the tools to begin to answer some of these questions...

With that resolve in mind, she brushed off her companion's fussing, and strode back towards the shallow pool. Despite his well-meaning intentions, Mipha was beginning to admit to herself that his constant hovering could be... somewhat stifling, even in spite of the security that he inspired within her.

Although, perhaps calling it a 'pool' was being too generous, Mipha thought. Given its depth, it was far more akin to an artificial puddle...

Her wry comment aside, she stepped into the pool, and gazed up at the platform above her. Judging from the height of the ice block the Slate had produced, it would be a trivial affair to hop from a summoned pillar to the ledge. However, that still left the matter of scaling the block in the first place...

A matter that would be most difficult for her, she lamented, as she took stock of her hands...

''You know...'' and Mipha could have sighed in joy, _and_ despair, when Wild chimed in with his inevitable solution.  
''It also works if you summon the block beneath your feet.''

Still, she could not blame him; he'd made such an effort to be placating in his tone. Besides, it was nothing that she wouldn't have figured out soon enough on her own regardless. But, having him here to expound his knowledge on the Slate's functions was certainly more expedient.

With that comment, she wordlessly summoned a block beneath her with Cryonis. More prepared this time, she was not taken off guard by the sudden rise, nor did she lose her footing; she noted that the ice, as well as being temperate, also possessed an impressive coefficient of friction. Despite even her best attempts to the contrary, the surface beneath her did not slip away.

''What a wondrous marvel of technology this Slate is.'' She mused aloud.

''I know, right?!'' Came Wild's impassioned reply, as he scrambled onto the block beside her with an impressive vigour. Mipha noticed that he'd extinguished his torch, and left it by the elevator still smouldering. He had, of course, not left his cloak by the entrance too, but Mipha had not truly expected anything different.

Mipha let out a silent huff at his enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, the path forwards was now accessible, and Mipha found herself rather keen to explore it. She hopped from the ice block to the platform with a casual grace and spring in her step, and was pleased to note Wild follow closely behind.

As they waked forwards, they came to another puddle. As Mipha walked, she felt the water underfoot swishing around her feet, and paused, as if deep in contemplation.

As trite as it was to say, the sensation seemed... _familiar._ Naturally, walking through shallow water was nigh-guaranteed to be a familiar feeling to an amphibious race such as the Zora, but Mipha knew that it was something more than that. It was something, dare she say... _deeper._

This was her instincts, her latent memories attempting to speak to her, and she would be damned if she did not listen. Her body seemed quite opinionated, nay, _insistent_ that these Shrines, these Sheikah constructs were, in some way, familiar to her.

It also seemed rather insistent to remind her of the lingering discomfort she felt within them. Discomfort that only seemed to rise, the deeper she dared to delve.

How... curious. 

_How worrisome,_ she corrected.

She continued on, anyhow, and was quickly greeted with a stone grate blocking their progress. With barely a moment of consideration, Mipha had directed the Slate, and summoned a pillar of ice beneath it, hoisting the grate up as the ice displaced it. She did not register the appreciative smirk Wild shot her, too focused as she was on progressing.

She didn't want to spend a single moment longer than was necessary within these constructs.

They turned another corner and passed yet another ruined automaton. Mipha gave it a cursory inspection, however she couldn't glean anything more than its passing resemblance to its much larger, also decrepit, brethren. She _did_ notice, however, that in those short moments they spent in the wreck's immediate proximity, Wild had appeared to become just as uneasy as she herself felt.

Still, she supposed that she could find humour in the fact that even with the advantage of his cloak, he was _far_ worse at hiding it than her, even as much as the sight of him in distress was only compounding her own anxieties.

To the left of the machine, she also noticed the profile of a chest overlooking their corridor.

It was almost a relief to note that it was empty; until this moment, she had not been witness to any sign that this Shrine had also previously been explored.

There was perhaps some small relief in familiarity.

Moving on, wordlessly, Mipha found herself faced with a fulcrum of sorts, with two stairways hanging high above the level platform. The puzzle was remarkably simple, yet intuitive, she noted as the solution made itself immediately available to her. Mipha realised that she could greatly appreciate the effort that had been put into making these trials as implicitly educational as they were, having been given a chance to see a trial in an _almost_ unsullied state.

She summoned a pillar of ice beneath the left half of the pivot, causing the platform to skew, moving the stairs to within reach of the slab. Mipha and her companion made haste in scrambling up the incline, before comprehension dawned on her that the trial had been completed; the awaiting altar beckoning her forwards...

Resting on the dais, she could see _something_ glinting in the soft glow of the Shrine. Before her brain had even registered the thought, her feet had taken her closer; her mind and body hypnotised by a lustre that...

_That she recognised._

It was undeniable. Irrefutable. Whatever it was that lay ahead of her was familiar, so familiar that even the reflections it cast in were enough to raise her pulse, cause her eyes to widen in disbelief and excitement, as she gasped in blatant incredulity.

What truly shocked Mipha was the sheer _intensity._ She had experienced a similar nostalgia upon seeing the sash in the Bomb Trial, but even that could not come _close_ to rivalling the magnitude of emotions she was currently being assaulted by.

 _Was this what true familiarity felt like,_ Mipha wondered? _Was this how it felt to recognise something?_

She raced forwards to the altar, unbidden.

When she reached it, and took in the sight of her reward, she could not prevent the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, nor the hitching, exuberant sob that escaped her.

Laying on the altar was a trident. And merely looking upon it was enough to make Mipha want to weep with joy. 

She grasped it reverently, lifted the shaft to her chest; the weapon seemed utterly at home, belonging within her grasp. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Mipha could swear that the weapon's shine had grown more lustrous since she had begun to wield it. She stared, awestruck, into the head of the trident, ran an adoring finger along the intricate curves and prongs of the artwork embedded into the design, took in her reflection in the jewels that adorned the highlights...

And, as a lone, solitary tear liberated itself from her eye, and splashed down onto _her_ Lightscale Trident, a white noise began ringing in her ears, and before she could react, her vision had been washed away, and Mipha willingly surrendered herself to the throes of her memory.

* * *

_Mipha looked around herself; she was floating in a small pool, surrounded by blue, luminous stone. Beyond the canopy that sheltered her, the sky was bright, it's colour a reflection of the most vibrant ocean. In front of her, lying on the bank of the pool was an **enormous** trident, filled with intricate designs and details, and adorned with some of the finest jewels she had ever seen._

_Something large loomed over her, blocking out the light of the sky, and Mipha whipped around where she floated._

_She was then faced with a great, hulking mass of a creature. Due to its sheer scale, it actually took Mipha a moment to recognise that this gargantuan being was a **Zora**. More importantly that that, as she focused, the features and colours of this Zora gradually grew sharper, until the details resolved themselves in a face she knew well; a face she had known her entire life._

_Mipha looked upwards adoringly, as her father gazed back down at her; a warmth and gentle fondness permeating his gaze._

_''Hello there, my little Princess.'' King Dorephan crooned lovingly, and in response, a giddy glee took hold of her, her tailfin twitching with excess energy as she happily swam around her enclosure. Her father chuckled warmly at her vigorous, energetic display._

_''I've come today, to bestow upon you a present.'' He continued, then turned to the enormous trident that rested so peacefully before her, taking it in one of his enormous hands._

_To him, the weapon did not appear nearly so comical. In fact, it could even be considered slightly undersized, when compared to his goliath stature, and he hefted it with far more ease than she could ever be capable of. Immediately, her awe of her father's strength grew immeasurably._

_King Dorephan chuckled indulgently, inspecting the weapon as he held it. Of course, there were no imperfections to be found; the weapon was utterly flawless. He seemed pleased, before moving to speak to her again, humbled by the attention and devotion his daughter paid to his every utterance._

_''This trident...'' he continued, ponderously, ''Is no mere weapon.'' Mipha found herself agreeing. After all, it was so very pretty, so bewitching to behold. In her opinion, it would be much better attributed as a work of art.  
''It is far more than that.'' _

_Any impatience Mipha might have felt, for him to reach his inevitable point sooner, was crushed under the unyielding respect his venerable wisdom commanded in his audience._

_''This trident signifies something very important.'' He continued, unhindered. ''It signifies your stature, and position, as Princess of our people...'' He tailed off from his words, a wistful look in his eye.  
''And, one day, it will signify your authority as our Queen.''_

_Mipha found herself quite enticed, quite excited by the prospect of becoming Queen, even if she would be forced to spend as much time as her father with the boring, stuffy elders of the Domain. **But** , she'd get to tell them all what to do, whenever she felt like it, so it wouldn't be all bad._

_...Not that she'd ever admit to calling them such, of course._

_Her musings were interrupted as her father continued to speak, heedless of his daughter's petty tyrannical fantasies._

_''You must learn to cherish this weapon, dear Mipha.'' he said, which caused Mipha to giggle._

_Silly father. She already did._

_''And you must learn to wield it, and its power, both in an executive, **and** combative manner.'' he continued, gravely. Mipha's mind caught at his words? Was she going to have to **execute** people with it? She didn't like the sound of that. Father had told her that execution was 'barbaric', which was a word she had not understood, but she had inferred from his context that it was probably bad. Perhaps then, this was simply another grown-up word that she did not know the full meaning of? Yes, that most likely explained it, she reasoned, and found herself soothed._

_''For this is the weapon of a Sovereign, and a Sovereign's duty is to defend their people, from whatever manner of threat that arises.'' He looked upon his daughter with a sigh. Truly, he was asking a lot from her; the burden of rulership demanded nothing less. And yet, the idea that he would be forced to watch this tiny, helpless creature that he loved grow into not only an acute politician, but a fierce warrior, was rather galling._

_However, Dorephan knew that he would not be able to protect her forever, from whatever manner of threat that may present itself to her._

_His best strategy was, of course, to educate and prepare her, and give her all of the tools she needed to be able to protect herself, should circumstances ever come to that. Such was the duty of any parent._

_He stared down at her once again, and in her eyes, he could see his future, his legacy, and the future of their people staring back at him. And although the day when he must let her spread her fins and swim freely would come..._

_It would not be for a few decades yet. Perhaps he should make the most of this meantime, instead of lamenting its inevitable conclusion. All children will eventually grow up. That is only the natural order of things, he reasoned._

_Dorephan rose from where he had seated himself, and prepared to leave, picking up the trident to take it with him, much to Mipha's protests. He sighed, then silenced her with a glance; it would not do to leave an untrained child with such a deadly weapon._

_''This trident will still be here tomorrow.'' He chided, firmly, and was most pleased when Mipha did not begin to sulk. Truly, he chuffed, in spite of his worries about her growing up, she was **already** rather mature, it seemed.  
''And, over the coming years, you will have plenty of time to become intimately familiar with it.'' He chuckled, and that sentiment seemed to pacify her._

_As he stepped away, leaving his daughter to her solitude, he called out to her one final time:_

_''I will see you again for dinner, dearest daughter. But I'm afraid, in the meantime, I must check on your mother.'' Mipha's tail twitched in joy at the mention of her mother, as she splashed happily in her pool, causing Dorephan to chuckle again._

_As he walked away, Mipha could just barely hear him ask his aide:_

_''Muzu, could you please watch over her in my absence?''_

_''Of course, sire.''_

_No more detail was made apparent to her, as Mipha's world returned to white._

* * *

_When Mipha opened her eyes again, the setting was completely different._

_She was still inside, surrounded by those luminescent canopies, but this room was very distinct. Now, she was sat, cradling her trident, as well as her wounded pride, enduring **yet another** lecture from her spear instructor._

_Seggin was showing her how to properly care for and maintain her weapon, however the tedious, repetitive task of polishing and buffing her trident was truly beginning to grate on her nerves._

_Nerves that had already been stretched to their limit, by their fruitless session beforehand._

_Internally, Mipha sulked something fierce; she had tried to make it clear that, despite how much she adored and cherished it, her fighting with the trident was an exercise in futility. The spear was simply much too big for her to properly handle: Every thrust threatened herself more than her opponent, as the momentum of the spear unbalanced her, and she did not yet possess the strength to properly control any swing she attempted, lest the follow through leave her hopelessly vulnerable to counter attack._

_The trident had been designed for her when she reached full maturity. If her rather diminutive stature wasn't obvious enough at a glance, she was **decades** away from reaching her full size._

_Still, she persevered, trying to drown out the monotonous droning of her instructor, and merely focus on completing her task, so that she could leave and brood in relative peace._

_''Are you even listening to me, Princess?'' Seggin demanded, and she shot up, admonished._

_In their time training together, Seggin had made it explicitly clear that he would suffer no disrespect, nor 'bullshit', regardless of her royal position. He truly had earned his reputation as the 'Demon Sergeant'._

_Mipha braced herself for the incoming tirade._

_''When His Majesty, your father assigned me to teach you spear-play, I accepted for one reason above any other.'' Seggin began, and she winced, awaiting the oft-repeated and oft-ignored lecture.  
''It would be an honour, and a **privilege** , to instruct our next monarch...'' Mipha stopped paying attention there, having no desire to let his repetitive, overly-harsh criticism insult her any more than it already had today. Seggin was determined to mould her into the most skilled spear-wielder in all of Hyrule, but Mipha had been so utterly hopeless, she couldn't understand why he had not yet given up, declared her a failure, and moved on with his very busy life._

_She'd complained about the harshness, and unrelenting demands, to her father on **many** occasions, but he'd merely laughed and waved off her concerns, saying that Seggin was merely doing his job. Which, of course, had only made her more angry, more determined to prove Seggin's many criticisms wrong, if only for the sake of petty spite._

_But, she was coming to realise that it was **hopeless**. Perhaps, one day, she would be able to wield her trident effectively..._

_But it would not be for **at least** a century, she thought miserably, until she was large enough to properly handle it._

_Seggin had clearly noticed Mipha's sullen frown, because he cut himself off mid-sentence._

_''Princess!'' he demanded, quite sternly._

_''What?!'' Mipha snapped, harshly, before biting her tongue, quailing at the impending rebuke that was no doubt coming her way._

_She'd never once talked back to Seggin before; her father had informed her, in no uncertain terms, that she was to be nothing but respectful to the grizzled veteran, and that he had permission to inflict any punishment he saw fit in return for disobedience or disrespect._

_To her surprise, Seggin did not immediately launch into a verbal assault. Instead, he sighed, and retrieved her an handkerchief, offering it to her expectantly._

_Mipha had not even realised that she had begun crying; tears of sorrow, of failure, of guilt and frustration were rolling over her cheeks in droves, before dropping off of her chin, to stain the trident she held, and the stonework underfoot._

_She took the napkin with shaking, unsure hands, before burying her face in it in an attempt to preserve her dignity. She couldn't even fathom what Seggin would think of her now, after this pathetic display..._

_As she did, however, Seggin spoke again. His words were strained, as if he was purposely trying to keep from upsetting her further, much to her confusion._

_''Why are you crying, Princess?''_

_**'What kind of stupid question is that?'** , Mipha wondered. After all, their 'training' had consisted of little more than pathetic displays from her, and **lengthy** corrections and rebukes from him, even down to things as utterly inconsequential as the position of her fins, to the way she held her weapon at rest. He had made her perform the most basic manoeuvres **thousands** of times, until her entire body was **screaming** at her, and never **once** was he satisfied, not even when her muscles gave out and she collapsed. Instead, he demanded that she get up, and try again, and again, and again..._

_She just..._

_She was fed up. Sick to her back teeth of the constant disapproval, and disappointment, that radiated off of him in waves, whenever she picked up her trident._

_Seggin seemed taken aback by her quiet sobs, before continuing from another angle._

_''Do you know **why** I am so harsh with you, Princess?''_

_Indeed, she did not. She thought that he had been harsher on her than he would be with his own son, when he soon came of age to take up the spear._

_''I'm so exacting not because I'm a monster, who wishes to cause you suffering for your inadequacy.'' and hearing that, Mipha let out an indignant snort; he'd actually been quite remarkably accurate in guessing her opinion of his somewhat Draconian teaching methods, there, and clearly he knew it._

_He ignored her response, for politeness' sake._

_''I'm so strict **because** I foresee great potential in you.'' And that **certainly** came to a great shock to the young Princess. She turned to face him, disbelief and shock written plainly across her face.  
''Within you, Princess, is the potential to become the best damn spear wielder Hyrule has **ever** known.'' He paused, to give her a moment to absorb what he'd said, before picking up before she could offer a rebuke:  
''And, you should know that I have never been one for exaggeration. If I'm saying it, then I honestly believe that it is true.''_

_Mipha sat, stunned into silence at his words._

_''In fact, in this last week alone, your progress has been almost exponential.'' He continued, sagely._

_The fragile hope that arose in her chest was quickly swamped, however, by disbelief and no small amount of anger.  
''Would it have pained you so greatly to at least **inform** me of such?'' She demanded, quite indignantly. _

_Indeed, his level of criticism, and praise, had not changed at all in that time. As far as Mipha knew, she could have been going backwards in her skill. She had made absolutely no progress in standing up for herself in their sparring, and he was **still** forcing her to perform the basics, not even letting her **look** at the more advanced spear techniques._

_He graciously did not rise to her frustrated barb, instead sitting back and emitting a weathered chuckle.  
''Ah, but it would be remiss of me to let your progress go to your head, Princess. Besides, you may have improved dramatically, but you still have a **very** long way to go.'' He chanced a glance at her, making sure that she was still listening, before continuing, noting with a smile that her tears were beginning to dry up.  
''I know that you have been struggling with the size of your trident. Rest assured, Princess, that you **will** learn to compensate, I can guarantee you of that.''_

_It truly was amazing, Mipha thought, how just the smallest amount of praise made the world of difference. She supposed that, for all of the effort she had put in, to get even the smallest of acknowledgements back made it all the sweeter..._

_''I think that perhaps we should call it for today, Princess.'' which caused Mipha no small amount of relief to hear, a new appreciation and respect blooming in her breast._

_''But tomorrow,'' he continued, with a glint of promise in his eye, ''I expect great things from you.''_

_For the first time in her life, Mipha found herself not dreading her next training session._

* * *

_The third time Mipha opened her eyes, the setting was drastically different once again. She was outside, near the bank of a river, staring across at her opponent. Her trident sat securely in her arms, and now, it did not feel uncomfortable there._

_They had been sparring for a while, and the product of their exhaustion was beginning to show; both of them were taking deep, laboured breaths, as they awaited the next move. They both knew that their next exchange would decide the contest; it was just a matter of waiting for who would blink first._

_Naturally, Mipha was as patient as ever, and would not be goaded. Her opponent made a disguised strike that she saw through, before she intercepted and repelled him with a thrust. Not allowing him a moment to recover, she pounced, feinting her own high thrust, before coming at him from below in a movement that had been practised until perfection._

_She caught his blade between the prongs of her trident, and twisted, disarming her opponent, sending his blade skittering into the waters of the river, before she levelled her weapon at his chest._

_He knew he was beaten, and so did she. She slowly lowered her weapon with a smile that belied just how close he had been to beating her that time._

_Indeed, he was an inspiration to her; she had recently found herself continuously pushing herself in order to remain ahead of him for just one more day..._

_She knew that he would catch up to her eventually, and likely even surpass her; it was only a matter of time._

_''You really are improving, you know?'' She called out in a measured voice, that disguised how winded he had left her._

_Clearly he disagreed, for he seemed to be preparing himself to enter a most amusing sulk. She sympathised with him; clearly he was not content with his rate of improvement. He would never be content until he was undisputedly the best of the best. Such he would need to become, if he was to fulfil his duty._

_''You forget that I've been doing this for much longer than you have.'' She chided, graciously.  
''I have no doubt that, if we were to spar again, that you could actually best me next time.''_

_Her praise seemed to lift his spirits, for he graced her with a small smile, that was becoming so very lamentably rare. Still, Mipha cherished it anyway, being happy to be proven still capable of eliciting such a reaction from him. And, oh, how that smile managed to make her own blood race even more quickly than their spar had..._

_Mipha focused on his face, but the details seemed to blur away from her. Despite how much she tried to resolve her vision, it still remained fuzzy, almost as if she was viewing him out of the corner of her eye. She could only make out hints of yellow, and two piercing blue lights, that could see straight into her very soul._

_He opened his mouth, as if to respond, and Mipha found herself hanging on to him, prepared to hear him speak for what felt like the first time in forever..._

_Alas, whatever she would have heard was drowned out by a white noise, before her vision once again returned to white._

* * *

Mipha snapped back to lucidity with a jolt, startling her poor companion with her sudden vigour.

Immediately, she returned her attention to the trident she cradled to her chest so possessively, glancing down at it as her eyes were filled with fresh tears. She traced the curves and details once more with her hand, caressing the weapon the way one might stroke a loved one.

''Mipha?'' Wild asked, tentatively, hesitantly. ''You, uh... seemed to zone out for a moment there...''

She paid little attention to his worry, to engrossed with the realisation of what she had recalled.

''This trident...'' she began, her hesitation and nervousness slipped away, replaced with a confidence and surety that sprung up from deep within her.  
''This trident belonged to me. I remember it.''

She let her sentence hang for a moment, as Wild took in her words, before he, predictably, jumped up in excitement and joy.

''What did you recall?'' he asked, expectantly, _imploringly._

''My father...'' she revealed, slowly. Upon seeing Wild's encouraging gaze, she elaborated with a sigh.  
''My father gave it to me, to be the symbol of a sovereign.'' She wondered how he would react to the news that she was royalty, somewhere. She turned to him in anticipation.

Wild seemed quite taken aback by the revelation, stunned as he took a step back in deference.

''Uh..'' he replied, and Mipha found his sudden nervousness amusing.  
''Should I have been referring to you as 'Your Highness', all this time?''

As entertaining as she found his stumbling, she was much less keen on the idea of enforcing some kind of regal distance and respect between them, and shook her head dismissively to inform him of such.

''Well, that's a relief.'' Wild smirked. ''Does that mean that you now know who you are?'' he tried, his words tinged with what Mipha recognised as hope.

She was loath to disappoint him, as always, but she informed him that, despite this knowledge, she still knew very little of who she _truly_ was, much less where she came from, or the people she was supposedly a Princess of.

Wild seemed somewhat overly disappointed by her response, but still tried hard to keep up his good cheer, probably for her sake, Mipha surmised, as he guided her back towards the entrance of the Shrine with surprising gusto.

Mipha followed along, for lack of anything else to really do, cradling her trident in her arms the entire time. Instead of looking where she was going, she kept her focus solely on the weapon she held in front of her, trusting Wild to lead the way.

Now that the initial euphoria of remembering something significant had passed, Mipha once again realised that her current surroundings were bringing her a great deal of discomfort. As she trudged through the shallow waters below, she realised that she had subconsciously moved her trident into a guarding stance.

But surely that was foolish, she realised. After all, there were no enemies to be found in the depths of these Sheikah constructs. She was safer here than practically anywhere else in all of the land.

Her attempts to pacify herself seemed fruitless, for she suddenly realised that her grip on her trident had become _desperate._

All of a sudden, Mipha was hyper-aware of her surroundings, from the subtle currents of the water beneath her feet, to the yawning, echoing expanse of the Shrine, which caused her to feel terrifyingly exposed. Still, no matter how hard she strained, the only thing she could detect, besides herself, was her companion's lackadaisical wandering, utterly heedless as he was to the conflict raging within her.

Still she _refused_ to relent; her instincts were practically _screaming_ at her that she was in _danger,_ that she was not safe, that _something,_ whatever it could be, _was hunting her._

As obvious as it might sound, she found the sentiment most worrisome.

Before she knew it, she was back near the entrance to the Shrine, faced with a short drop onto the ice block she had previously created.

Wild had hopped down, without a care in the world, before turning back to face her, confusion clear in his posture.

''Mipha?'' he asked, cautiously, having noticed her frozen, unmoving form, overlooking the cryonis block below.

If she had heard him, she gave no indication, instead keeping her focus solely on the block that rested so innocuously beneath her. She watched, silently, as the pattern on the block thrummed once, twice, then a third time, before realising that she had momentarily forgotten to breathe.

She glanced down at the trident in her hands, inspecting it, but also keeping a watchful, distressed eye on her surroundings, as she gasped in air, her lungs simply refusing to perform their sole function, as her throat was seized by an invisible hand of ice.

She glanced around again, frantically, taking in the stonework, the water, the lighting, before her gaze landed again on the pattern adorning the block of ice beneath her. Mipha knew that she was dissociating, running the risk of falling into yet another memory. Yet, this one, she knew heralded something far more malevolent.

Despite this, the pattern brightened once again, and Mipha knew that she had passed the point of no return. Kicking, screaming, clawing and biting, all to no avail, she tumbled into the realm of her memories once again.

Only, this time, something rather sinister was awaiting her...

* * *

_Mipha opened her eyes, and she was in a dark, damp chamber; the stonework around her was intricate, yet quite functional. Of course, she had no time to pay attention to any of those trivial details; her current predicament was occupying all of her focus, and then some._

_She felt movement behind her, and instinctively dodged away from a glowing, terrible spear that cut through the space she was previously occupying; barely avoiding the scything blow that sought to reap her._

_The monster had teleported again; it was moving so quickly and so often that she was having trouble keeping track of it._

_Already, it had drained the water from the control room, robbing her of her refuge. She skipped away on legs that were burning with exhaustion, desperate to keep moving, to keep it occupied for just a little longer..._

_Ganon was **relentless** in its pursuit. Utterly indefatigable in its offence, and Mipha found herself flagging; her body had been pushed to its limit, and her magic was all but exhausted. It would only be a matter of time until she faltered..._

_And they **both** knew it._

_And wasn't that galling? She had trained **so** hard, and for **so** long; she had been heralded as the best spearman in all of Hyrule. She had perfected her control of her healing magic to an **impeccable** degree..._

_**And none of it was enough...** _

_Still, she did not surrender, hoping beyond all hope to survive, to deflect and dodge, just long enough for help to arrive. She had sounded her emergency distress signal what felt like **hours** ago. Surely, if she just managed to hold out a little bit longer, help would arrive, and she would be rescued. _

_He **would** come for her. She knew it._

_Deep inside her, she had already accepted the truth: Link was **not** coming to save her. He would be far too busy protecting the Princess... The **other** Princess._

_But still, she did not acknowledge the truth, for it would surely cause her to plummet into despair. She **had** to keep hoping. The alternative was unfathomable._

_As if sensing her momentary weakness, Ganon **pounced.**_

* * *

Link watched, helpless, as Mipha squirmed, and weaved, seemingly locked in the fiercest of battles with an enemy only she could see. Horror-struck, he'd vaulted back up the ledge to her side, and yet there was nothing he could do; she was utterly unaware of his presence, trapped as she was in the throes of her mind. She darted around, ever vigilant of her invisible threat, and the terror was so plainly obvious in her posture, her face, her eyes.

Link found himself at a complete loss for what to do. The familiar feeling of powerlessness crept up and seized his lungs, despair filling them instead of air, as he searched desperately for a way to help her, to let her know she was safe, with a fervour that was frankly _fatalistic._

* * *

_Mipha reacted too slowly. She turned ready to perform a last-gasp deflection with her beloved trident, only Ganon had not attacked her with its spear. Instead, there was a great block of ice careening towards her despairingly quickly, the pattern on its face flaring, as if mocking her inevitable defeat. Mipha was left without the opportunity to dodge. All she could do was brace herself, and **pray.**_

_The block shattered against her, and the impact knocked her off her feet, her head swimming, lethargic with an imminent concussion. She stared, blearily upwards, and came face to face with Ganon again._

_It screeched hideously, heralding and exalting its victory, and Mipha could only watch in horror as it's baleful, hateful eye glared into her soul, frozen like a statue under it's malicious gaze._

_As it wound itself up for one final, fell blow, she closed her eyes in prayer, to let out one final, hopeless prayer to whatever gods that were clearly not listening._

* * *

Link flinched as Mipha tripped over, and remained prone, quivering with adrenaline and fear. She seemed to freeze, accepting the inevitable then, as she closed her eyes for what was seemingly the final time. Still he did not know what to do, how to help her, as much as he was so desperate to.

He had to strain his ears to hear what she uttered so defeatedly, so dejectedly. He missed most of her words, too distracted by his heart _pounding_ in his ears, a relentless drumbeat that drowned all other noise out except one word:

'' _...-y Link..._ ''

Galvanised into action, Link _hurled_ himself at Mipha, utterly heedless of how potentially foolish such an action was; he knew from his own experience just how dangerous it could be to disturb someone suffering from such acute psychosis, and yet, Mipha's desperate, _piteous,_ plea had forced his hand.

He wrapped himself around her fiercely, tightly, also somewhat restraining her arms as he did, to not give her the opportunity to accidentally stab him.

''I'm here, Mipha. I've got you.'' He breathed into her head, desperately, imploringly, as an infinite wellspring of divine power and fury bubbled up from within him. In it, he could feel the sheer depth of his emotions, his desire to keep Mipha safe, _to protect her from whatever sought her harm..._

As he buried his face into Mipha's tail fin, his body wracked by her feeble shudders, an orange prism of light formed around him; a dodecahedron of impregnable force that engulfed them both, cutting them off from the outside world, and any physical threat that may present itself.

Indeed, this barrier had protected Link from all manners of assault; from Hinoxes, to Lynels, to Guardians, even Ganon itself. If only Daruk's Protection was as effective at preventing psychological injury, Link lamented.

* * *

_Mipha had closed her eyes, awaiting a death blow that seemingly never came, before she suddenly realised that she was lying in somebody's arms._

_Gazing upwards at the face of her rescuer, she picked out the tell-tale features of that golden hair and piercingly blue eyes that she so adored, and his identity became obvious._

_An ineffable feeling of safety overcame her then; Link had come back for her, had rescued her, like she had always known he would..._

_And yet..._

_Whatever positive sentiments had arisen quickly drained away, for Mipha realised that now he was **also** in danger from this terrible Blight. She tried to free herself, but her weakened struggle bore no fruit, too exhausted as she was._

_''I won't let anything hurt you, Mipha.'' she heard him whisper. ''I'll keep you safe, I promise.'' and, somehow, she thought, just for a moment, that she could believe him, as a magical orange barrier sprung into existence around them, filling her with security._

_That was funny, Mipha though. She was not aware that Link had learned how to do that from Daruk..._

_In that moment, resting in his arms, she could almost forget whyever she had been so distressed in the first place..._

_With a jolt, Mipha tried once again to rise, to no avail. So, she settled for frantic glances around, seeking evidence of the monster that had come so close to killing her. Alas, Waterblight was nowhere to be seen..._

_''But Ganon!'' Mipha protested, before she was hushed back into contented silence by her saviour._

_''It's alright, Mipha. I killed it. It's gone. You're safe now.'' And Mipha wanted to weep at the pain in his voice. Oh, how much she must have worried him with her weakness, how much strife she must have caused him, to have to rescue her..._

_She felt moisture dropping from his face to hers..._

_She reached up to hold his cheek in one hand, gazing lovingly into the eyes of her protector, her knight, her soon-to-be-fiancé..._

_And then, finally, the exhaustion caught up with her, and her world faded to black._

* * *

Link sat in silence, as he regarded the unconscious Zora beneath him. 

Once she'd fainted, he'd repositioned her to lie across his lap, one hand supporting her neck, the other stroking what he hoped was a soothing rhythm along her tail.

Truthfully, seeing Mipha react like that; so terrified, so vulnerable, had shaken Link to his core, which was made evident by the frantic trembling of his hands, despite his best efforts to keep them steady. Now that she was unconscious, he could only pray that she was more settled. Indeed, she _seemed_ to be at peace now, but her external state was no indication of her mind's condition.

He kept a watchful eye on her breathing, ensuring that she was merely sleeping and not anything more... 

Gods damn him but he couldn't even bear to finish that thought.

From what little he'd gleaned from her senseless babbling, she had been remembering Ganon's attack on Vah Ruta. Being forced to witness even a shadow of the emotions that she must have once experienced was enough to make his heart squeeze painfully in distress.

He couldn't bear dwelling on what she must have experienced on that awful, awful day...

He simply wasn't strong enough.

He did not know how long he had sat there; time seemed to have no meaning in these unchanging structures. Seconds blended into minutes which could stretch easily into hours, and its occupants would never be any the wiser. He did know that he had been sitting for long enough for his back to begin to ache again. He traced a pathway down his torso that had become rather intimately familiar, these past few months, before he was startled from his musings by Mipha clawing her way back to consciousness.

Her eyes fluttered open, and Link had never thought that they looked more beautiful, more captivating than they were in that instant. He let out a long, low sigh as he gazed upon her radiance, the shape of her face, before her eyes gradually began to focus on his own.

''Mipha?'' He enquired, gently, and was pleased to hear her respond, even wordlessly.

She looked as if she was about to address him, before hesitance once again took control of her, and she aborted her course at the last possible moment.

''L... _Wild._ '' she corrected herself, admonished, feeling quite foolish for having nearly mixed up the character from her memories with the man in front of her...

Although...

She could not deny the similarities. Could it be possible that she had transplanted the features of her current companion onto this mysterious figure from her past? Or was the resemblance that uncanny?

''You gave me quite a fright there.'' Link continued, and Mipha winced at the worry so plainly evident in his tone.

''My apologies.'' She whispered, admonished and embarrassed by her lack of control.

''Don't apologise.'' He commanded, sternly, and Mipha sighed again. ''I promised that I would always protect you, and I intend to make good on that.''

Only then, did Mipha realise that his hand had continued on its steady path up and down her tail. She'd been subconsciously leaning into his touch; she found it most relaxing and reassuring.

Something in his words echoed within her mind, however. Almost as if she'd heard them before...

* * *

_In the time between subsequent blinks, Mipha's surroundings changed once again. She was sat in somebody's lap, gazing upwards at their face, as he ran a reassuring hand along her head._

_How very ironic, she considered, that she had spent so long watching over and protecting him. And now, here he was, all grown up and returning the favour._

_His hand traced down her side, leaving unpleasant shudders in its wake, as it moved to where the discharge had shocked her so unpleasantly._

_''I'm sorry.'' he said, yet Mipha could not fathom what he was apologising to her for._

_''I let you get hurt.'' he sniffed, despondent, and Mipha could weep for the sorrow present in his voice._

_Naturally, she wanted to let him know that it was not his duty, his prerogative to watch out for her. That she had known the risks of engaging a Lynel armed with shock arrows, and had accepted that. Besides, it was not even close to being a serious, dangerous wound, merely unpleasant. His very presence, and martial prowess, had ensured that._

_Secretly, she was still in awe of the ease with which he had dispatched such a formidable foe. A foe that had inspired such terror within her, that she was sure that they were both going to die..._

_''But, I promised that I would always protect you!'' he insisted, and Mipha thought that her heart might burst. To know that he had not only remembered that pledge he had made to her when he was so young, but also that he wanted to uphold it..._

_In retrospect, that moment, sitting together on the summit of Ploymus Mountain, with the carcass of the Lynel forgotten behind them, might have been the moment she first realised that she was in love._

* * *

Mipha gasped, once again lucid, before taking in Wild's fearful glance, and dismissing his worry. There _truly was_ an undeniable similarity there, and yet...

And yet, as hard as she struggled to recall even a single detail of this enigmatic entity, the details seemed to blur...

The more she attempted to focus on even a single detail, the more it seemed to slip away from her, like a particularly slippery eel, the details that she _knew_ she had previously recalled, vanishing into vagueness.

 _'Gods damn it all.'_ Mipha wailed internally. She couldn't even remember his _name,_ despite the fact that she had been just about to say it, still trapped on the tip of her tongue...

Frustrated, she hauled herself to her feet, surprised by the lack of resistance Wild offered her.

In spite of his fretting, Mipha was keen to leave this accursed structure as soon as possibly, preferably before _yet another_ memory ensnared her. She realised the irony, given that she had been so very eager to recall even a single memory, when now she found herself quite sick of the mental barrage that she had endured, by virtue of her recollections.

How foolish she had been, she huffed. Having wanted to recall her past with such ardent _desperation..._

She had known that she ran the risk of uncovering something she would have rather have stayed forgotten. And yet, in her naivety, she had believed that she would be strong enough to handle it, to deal with it...

 _She had assumed wrongly._ Only now was the true extent of her weakness coming to light.

She grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around herself with a vengeance, seeking an outlet for her impotence, the frustration her foolishness had caused her, noting silently that Wild was attempting to re-light his torch in a worried silence.

Their elevator ride upwards was unnervingly silent, and Mipha found herself fiddling with her trident in a vain attempt to keep her hands occupied.

Glad as she was to leave the Cryonis Trial behind her, she had the most disquieting feeling that her true Trials had yet to begin...

* * *

Mipha and her companion exited the Shrine without a word. It was clear that they had been occupied for some time, as the sun had moved significantly across the sky in their absence. Mipha estimated that the day had progressed to about mid-afternoon...

Taking a moment to look around, she noticed Wild walk past her. She decided to occupy herself by working up the motivation she would need to teleport herself to the final Shrine, and risk not only the crippling nausea of teleportation sickness, but also the potential trauma of whatever she discovered in the depths that awaited her.

She weighed the pros and cons, considering that, especially in light of her current condition, it might be more prudent to end their adventures for today, and finish off the final Shrine after giving herself a chance to recollect herself.

After all, she had spent so long inside the Cryonis Trial feeling uncomfortable with her surroundings. Now that she had only just regained her freedom, it would be foolish to imprison herself again so quickly...

Her musings were cut short, as a strange noise caught her attention over the wind. Wild had evidently heard it too, for he immediately tensed, before drawing his sword.

Mipha realised that she recognised the noise; it was the same brutish grunting she'd heard the previous day from the Bokoblins they had encountered in the woods below.

This time, however, things would be quite different, she resolved, hefting her trident into a ready position.

Of course, Mipha was correct in her assumption, but not for the reasons she had expected.

As she and Wild prowled down the mountainous path, they came across the abandoned campsite that they had dismissed so readily on their ascent. Inhabiting it were two red Bokoblins, both of which unfortunately happened to be facing them...

With a startled squeal, one of them reactively launched the red barrel it was carrying towards them. Mipha's eyes widened, as Wild cursed, _throwing_ himself between her and the explosive package.

He summoned an orange barrier before him just in time, as the barrel detonated in front of him.

The protective magic served its purpose in that Wild was left unharmed by the explosion, but the force of the attack pushed him back. Mipha watched, in horrified silence, as Wild seemed to teeter on the edge of the cliff in almost-comical slow motion...

Before his footing gave way, and he plummeted over the edge with a scream; its intensity only drowned out by Mipha's own.

* * *

Mipha stood, shell-shocked, as she looked at the place where Wild had fell. Immediately, denial was clawing up at her, even as much as the brutal reality informed her that that kind of plummet would be nothing other than fatal. The mere concept that her kind, wonderful, caring companion was gone in an instant, just like that...

It simply did not register.

She snapped back to awareness, however, for the Bokoblins, emboldened by their victory, advanced on her. From deep within her, a feeling arose. It took Mipha a long, long moment to recognise it for what it truly was:

Mipha was completely, utterly, overwhelmingly _furious._

She choked down an aggrieved sob, biting back tears as the reality of the situation truly hit her, before her grief and sorrow made way for a relentless rage that was truly frightening in it's capacity. Mipha snarled, something ferocious, and it was a brutal and vicious enough noise to cause the Bokoblins to stop in their tracks, almost reconsidering their engagement, only now noticing the gleaming prongs of her trident, glinting in the sunlight...

Mipha was not feeling particularly merciful, in that moment. She would not relent, until these monsters had been utterly eviscerated on the end of her blade, such was the price of their actions.

As much as she was itching to fight, to _kill,_ however, she was not even given the chance.

The wind upon the mountain picked up, turning into a swirling, howling tornado, causing all three occupants of the campsite to pause.

Then, at the epicentre of the tempestuous twister, was a sight that Mipha could barely believe:

Wild hung in the air, suspended by some sort of gliding mechanism, the winds beneath him pushing him up with a mighty updraft, until he hovered silently, far above the camp.

In Mipha's bewildered eyes, he almost looked like some kind of avenging angel, rising up from his untimely grave to deal justice and vengeance to those that had consigned him to such an awful fate. His cloak flapped around him, as everybody paused to observe his next movements, so surprised as everyone was by his sudden re-emergence.

Within the blink of an eye, he collapsed his glider and withdrew a bow that Mipha had not been aware he even possessed. Less than a moment later, he had landed in front of her, and there was an arrow protruding from each Bokoblin's stunned skull, as they both slumped over, then remained still...

He turned to look at his handiwork, and in that moment, Mipha genuinely wondered if she was looking at some kind of god of war. The utterly indomitable, _invincible_ figure he cut struck an impression into her soul that simply transcended mortal language. Mipha found herself utterly blown away by his lethality, and how casual, how _easy,_ he made it look.

However... 

In spite of her awe, there was one other factor about his incredible display; one that she simply could not have missed, nor ignore.

Instead of stating the absolutely obvious in some banal expression of disbelief or incredulity, calling out his lie that with such a device, he was 'trapped on the Plateau', Mipha considered for a moment, stewing in her silence.

As she considered from the perspective of having this one falsehood proven to her, a great number of details only now finally began to slot into place.

Mustering her courage, she straightened her spine, and looked the man in the eye, beneath his hood, and spoke, in a voice that never once wavered, nor struggled for clarity nor confidence:

''Tell me who I am, and who you are to me.''

It was not a request, that much she had made obvious.

It was a _command._ Infused with all of the regal authority she could summon.

And, certain as she was in her deduction, Mipha was going to _ensure_ that he obeyed it.

* * *

Link froze under her scrutiny, and not for the first time that day.

However, this time, he did not see any feasible way to half-truth, or outright lie his way out of it. Mipha had caught him red-handed with irrefutable proof of his deception, and would not allow him to twist his words to throw her off again...

In short, Link was _fucked._

''You were the one who left these items in the Shrines for me.'' Mipha continued, accusation pervading her tone, and Link winced further under her rising suspicion, flinching away from her to her gratification. Had she not been experiencing such a strange cocktail of triumph, humiliation and betrayal, Mipha might have found it amusing that her words could accomplish what no monster or weapon could, in causing this man to balk.

Link stayed quiet for a long moment, before sighing, defeated. His silence was, after all, utterly damning.

''...How long have you known?'' he dejectedly asked, tacitly confirming Mipha's conclusion. She was very glad that she had paid such close attention to his specific wording, back in the Bomb Shrine.

Emboldened by his affirmation, Mipha continued on with her interrogation:

''I've had my suspicions for a while, now...'' she drawled, as her mind began to supplement her with more evidence reinforcing her deductions. The surprisingly evasive answers that he'd consistently given her were far more incriminating under the reductive lens of hindsight.

Still, Mipha continued on, unperturbed.

''But I think it's only in hindsight that it all truly becomes clear.'' she paced around him, exalting in her victory, at having caught him out after so long, and Link seemed to shrink in on himself even further, if such a thing were possible.

''Why, the mere fact that you were cooking fish just as I happened upon you, and you just so happened to have a spare to give to me...'' Mipha tailed off, scanning him intently for any kind of response.  
''That surely was not a coincidence.'' She concluded, and Link sighed again.

Still, Mipha was not yet done:

''There were many other details, as well; from your expansive knowledge of a Zora's implicit needs, not to mention all of the times when your advice was perhaps _too_ prudent, _too_ accurate...

And, of course, all of those half-truths, and suspiciously specific wordings...

Not to mention the fact that, for someone who was supposedly seeking to explore this Plateau, you already seemed to have quite a good idea of your way around.''

Even then, with the benefit of hindsight making all of her conclusions seem so _trivially_ obvious, Mipha realised that there had been one great factor inhibiting her from reaching those conclusions...

''I don't think I wanted to admit it to myself.'' Mipha continued, a sombre air overtaking her, her sudden distress causing Link to perk up, before squirming with the product of his own folly.  
''I did not wish to believe that you were deceiving me. I did not wish to believe that you would betray me in such a way...'' she whispered.

Now, _that_ point Link could not let stand unchallenged.

''That's not true!'' he exclaimed, as much as the words rang false in his own mouth. Regardless, his outburst had captured her attention, so he pressed onwards.  
'' _Everything_ I have done...'' he stressed, _begged_ her to see his perspective, ''Was done for your benefit.''

''I struggle to imagine how lying to me, how _leading me around by my tailfin and playing me for a fool,_ was to my benefit.'' Mipha scoffed, disbelievingly, and Link crumbled further under her ire.

''It was for the best!'' Link exclaimed, before actually stopping, and taking a moment to realise just how insultingly arrogant that would sound from Mipha's perspective. He winced, but refused to concede the point; it was true, after all.

''It was not your place to withhold such information from me.'' Mipha chided, and could not help the slight hysteric note that entered her voice, as the sheer magnitude of grief, of longing and of frustration that she had endured these past days made itself intimately known to her once more.  
''It was _not your right_ to leave me in the dark for so long!'' She hiccupped, as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

Link remained strangely quiet, which Mipha took as invitation to continue her assault.

''It was not your right to leave me in such a state of confusion, to be constantly assaulted by my doubt, my fear, my indecision over my identity, when you possessed answers to the questions that were causing me such grief!'' her voice rose to a fever pitch.

Link's hood had fallen further over his face, casting it in a gloomy shadow. The effect was quite ominous, even as Mipha continued to lay into him with her words, waiting for him to show any weakness, to crack...

''I think you will find that I was _perfectly_ within my rights to do that.'' Link snapped, and Mipha was _clearly_ not expecting that, because it managed to shock her into silence. Seizing his opportunity, Link continued in a voice dripping with offence and scorn.  
''If you recall not ten minutes ago, when you were experiencing acute psychosis as a result of suddenly regaining a dormant memory, it should become obvious as to why I was so...'' He paused, grasping at the air for the correct word.  
'' _Indirect._ '' he spat, with an almost-condescending tone.

He hadn't meant to snap, but Mipha's unjustified comments hurt him more than she was aware she was capable of, and he'd reacted in turn.

When Mipha responded, her voice had dropped from the verge of a scream, to an icy whisper, the frigidity causing Link to shudder.

''You clearly cannot understand how agonising it is to be so bereft of memories and identity-''

She was cut off by Link, talking over her quite forcefully.

''Actually, Mipha, _I can._ '' Which momentarily startled her into submission again. Not allowing the moment to escape him, Link continued, with a tone that was equally resigned, and foreboding.  
''I know _exactly_ what it is like, to leave the Shrine of Resurrection, without a single memory to your name, and face the world with _nothing,_ not even an _inkling_ of who you are and what your part in it is...'' He sighed, wistfully, before continuing.  
''I know _exactly_ what it is like to blindly fumble about, desperately searching for any _hint or scrap_ of a clue to your identity, believe me, I _know._ '' He let out a hollow chuckle, somewhat pleased that his words had had their intended effect, as comprehension dawned on Mipha's face.

Indeed, that would explain a lot, Mipha surmised. The 'Shrine of Resurrection'... 

In that case, it was a fair assumption to believe that she had been dead.

And wasn't _that_ a disturbing realisation? 

Although, she considered, it certainly gave context to a few of her more recent recollections. However, his explanation, as well as whatever sympathy she might have for their shared experience, were not sufficient to placate her.

''If that is truly the case,'' Mipha responded, snidely, ''Then you should know just how hurtful it is to discover that you have been dishonest with me.''

Link deflated, the wind stolen from his sails by her disapproval.

''I know, and please believe me when I say that I am _truly_ sorry.'' he gazed imploringly at her, hoping beyond reason that she would not hold onto this bitter, _brutal_ resentment...

She held more power over him than she had ever known.

''I was merely trying to protect you from a greater hurt. At least, until you were ready to bear it.'' He hoped that his meaning was obvious to her. He found himself rather unwilling to divulge the gritty, tragic details of her fate to her, at this moment.  
''Believe me when I say that there are some things I've recalled that would have been far better off forgotten...''

Mipha was remaining oddly quiet, so Link picked himself up again, in an attempt to, at the very least, convince her of his position, and good intentions.

''It was always my intention to inform you of the truth...

I guess I was... just hoping that I could protect you from getting hurt. Perhaps, in that desire, I have only caused you more grief...

I'm so sorry, Mipha.''

His devastated, despondent tone struck a chord within Mipha, despite her lingering cool fury. Indeed, she could not deny that during these past two days, he had gone above and beyond for her comfort and safety. She found it not at all hard to believe that his dedication to her was genuine, and benign, at least from his perspective. Looking upon him, and seeing the product of her anger, she simply _knew_ that he _truly, honestly believed_ that what he was doing was for the best.

And, if Mipha was to be perfectly honest with herself, he may have had a valid point, in trying to shelter her from her latent trauma.

Still, in spite of her rationalisations, her trust in him was utterly shattered, and they clearly both knew it. She could not, and would not, take another step with him, unless he revealed his identity and relationship to her, and she informed him as such, by attempting to reach for his hood.

He scrambled away from her, and Mipha felt that spike of betrayal redouble.

''I'm afraid...'' He stuttered, then composed himself to try again, this time doing a much better job of disguising the tears in his voice.  
''I fear that seeing my face now might only cause you more suffering.''

He raised a hand to stall her well-justified objection.

''No. I don't think anything will be resolved neatly, if it is done now...'' he tailed off again, before something behind Mipha's shoulder caught his eye.  
''I tell you what...'' he muttered, more to himself than to his audience, before steeling his resolve to see his plan through.  
''When you are ready, meet me at the summit of the Plateau Tower.'' he offered.  
''I promise, I will explain _everything_ to you.''

Link huffed to himself, content to at least give her the courtesy of informing her of where he wished to meet, rather than having her figure it out for herself.

Mipha reacted cautiously to his offer, suspicion rising in her tone.

''Anything you could reveal to me there, you could also do so here.'' she pointed out.

''Well, yes,'' Link admitted, taken aback. ''However, I think that with tensions so high, we might both benefit from a chance to reorganise our thoughts...

Furthermore, it's a bit cold up here...'' he remarked, off-handedly, and Mipha found herself agreeing, even in spite of her disagreements.

''And you promise that you will grant me an explanation for _everything?_ '' Mipha enquired, ever wary of his habit of evasion, of weaselling out from providing information.

''Everything.'' Link confirmed, without hint of deception.

Yet, even still, Mipha found herself uneasy at the prospect. The betrayal still stung at her, the fact that she'd caught him in such an elaborate deception warning her against trusting him again...

Even beyond her most base instincts which begged her to believe him. Even beyond the evidence of every act he'd performed that showed the depth of his care for her...

Her rational mind wanted proof that she was not being manipulated any further.

Link sighed, discerning her hesitance with a glance. Not that he could blame her, of course; he hadn't exactly made the most compelling case for his trustworthiness...

''Or I could offer you an alternative?'' he posed, and Mipha quirked up in response, imploring him to continue.  
''I could unlock the Slate for you, which will allow you to teleport to your home. Or allow you to follow the map until you arrive there, at least.''

Link winced as he made the offer; this was _not_ how he'd wanted things to go. He had been hoping that he'd have a chance to prepare her for her reunion with her people, let alone her family.

And yet, if this is what Mipha would decide; to be rid of him, then he would respect that. 

He'd had quite enough of robbing her of her agency.

''Click snap.'' said Link, and the Slate in Mipha's possession chimed.

She took it out to look upon the screen, and immediately she noticed that the map was now fully coloured in, fully available for her perusal.

''If you select the 'Ne'ez Yohma' Shrine within Zora's Domain, you will be teleported home. Alternatively, you could follow the river off the Plateau, all the way around Hyrule Field, into the Great Zora River in Lanayru, which will take you home. You will meet your father and brother there, and be reunited at last...''

He tried to not sound too pessimistic, especially if she chose to take the long way home; after all, there were things that could still be a threat to her that she may encounter.

He still balked at the idea of not being present to protect her, if necessary...

''I will wait for you until sunrise tomorrow on the Great Plateau Tower.'' he continued.  
''After that point, I will assume you have made your own way home...''

He walked to the edge of the cliff he had so recently fallen down, throwing one last look over his shoulder to the Zora that stood so silently, on the cliff.

''But, regardless of whatever your choice...

Please be careful, Mipha.'' 

With that, he took a great leap off of the ledge, opening up his paraglider, and sailed away, leaving Mipha to ruminate in her solitude...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. That was quite the journey.
> 
> I hope that the length of that chapter wasn't too off-putting, but... well, there was a lot to cover.
> 
> As you might have noticed, this is the penultimate chapter of _A Promise Kept_...
> 
> But, fear not! For I already have plans to begin writing a sequel!
> 
> Of course, I also need to gauge whether people would prefer me to write some more Preludes first, or stick with Mipha and Link on their journey. Of course, both will be happening, but it's a matter of what you guys want to see first. ;) I'm in this for the long-haul.
> 
> Also, on another note, I've almost 100%'d Age of Calamity. There is a certain post-game mission that made me very, _very_ happy. You probably know the one.
> 
> Please let me know what you think below; I'd really love the chance to discuss and engage with readers over this monster of a chapter, and getting feedback means more to me than I could ever express.
> 
> Thanks again.


	10. A Promise Kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again.
> 
> WELL. Here we are. The final chapter of this story. It's been quite the journey, hasn't it?
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has read, commented and kudos'd this story. Thank you all so very, very much for reading my story. It means so much to me, and I'm glad that others have also found enjoyment in it.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy the conclusion of _A Promise Kept_.
> 
> Special thanks again to aviatordame for just being the absolute best.

### Chapter 10: A Promise Kept

### 

Mipha sat, in perfect silence, on the now desolate hilltop.

Wild had vanished from her sight long ago, carried away on silent winds as surely as if he'd never been by her side to begin with. With his departure, there was quite simply nothing left for her on this freezing crag. And yet, Mipha remained frozen, ironically trapped by her newfound freedom, not knowing what to do with it first.

Mipha's anger, her outrage, had evaporated along with her target's retreat; now she only found herself languishing in the bitter realisations that had once been so gratifying to deduce.

One sentence that replayed itself on an endless loop in Mipha's mind was the name her custodian had given to the structure from which she had first emerged:

The 'Shrine of Resurrection'.

When she'd first heard its name, she hadn't paid too much attention to it, beyond the inference that made itself immediately obvious; the fact that she had been dead. If anything, she had been pleasantly surprised by how neatly that had news had framed context for her recent, terrifying memory.

Now, however...

Now that the adrenaline had cooled, now that she had a moment to reflect on the _consequences_ of that fact...

_She had died._

_But now, she was alive._

Mipha did not know if there were sufficient words to adequately describe the gamut of emotions those simple statements evoked within her. Perhaps the only thing she could _truly_ comprehend was the fact that there was _simply no way_ for her mind to fully acknowledge them.

More than that, however, the chilling casualness by which Wild had referred to the fact that he'd _shared_ her experience, how blatant his offhand statement to her contrary had been...

Even now, watching him again in her mind's imperfect reconstruction, she could not repress the discomfited curl of her fins, nor the guilt-stricken shudder that wracked her.

Although, perhaps the cold was also contributing to that, Mipha contemplated with a drawn-out sigh.

She shook her head, numbly, barely taking note of her tail fins that swayed sluggishly with her movements. Whatever conclusions she eventually would come to, about these revelations, she would be much better served by coming to them in an environment much warmer than this.

With a sigh, she withdrew the simple Traveller's Spear that she had been gifted previously, eyeing it dispassionately. Since recovering her trident, she had no further need of it, and yet...

And yet, it would perhaps be rude of her to just throw it away, discard it in a childish fit of spite, especially if this item happened to hold any sentimental value to her caretaker, as unlikely as she assumed this possibility was.

She placed the spear in the small structure of the Shrine, leaving it in an accessible location should he wish to retrieve it. She then attached her trident to the holster on her back.

As she left the Shrine, and began her trek down the mountain, she did not spare another glance to the pathetic, lonely spear, that sat within the modest, silent structure.

* * *

Unfortunately, Mipha lacked anything so convenient as the glider upon which Wild had sailed away. Of course, she did have the Slate in her possession, and a cursory glance at the map informed her that she now had her choice of literally _dozens_ of locations to teleport to, however the sheer quantity of options was rather overwhelming, to poor princess. Furthermore, she did not think that she was yet ready to endure another bout of teleportation sickness.

Therefore, she was forced to, rather waspishly, retrace her path down the mountain.

Her descent was rather uneventful, her legs moving without conscious input from her mind. She paid no attention to either the striking scenery, nor the cold, that had so influenced her during her climb. Instead, her mind was swimming, almost _drowning_ under the torrent of information that had been revealed to her.

It was, infuriatingly, rather similar to her state of mind before she had been exposed to the onslaught of exposition that had left her reeling, she noted with a huff. But now, of course, instead of repetitive endless questions as to her identity, her mind had busied itself frantically attempting to extrapolate details from the tantalising, albeit miniscule, crumbs that she had been offered.

Mipha was only shocked out of her frustrated musings when she reached the river; the roar of the cascading water drowning out the noise of her incessant thoughts. 

Eyeing the river cautiously, Mipha thought back to what her steward had revealed to her about it. He'd called it the 'River of the Dead', in what Mipha now realised was an attempt at a subtle jest. Still, bad taste aside, Mipha could definitely see the humour in his foreshadowing.

She also remembered that he'd revealed that, if she so chose, she could follow this river home. Looking at her map, it would be quite the arduous, lengthy journey, however, she noted inquisitively, he had been telling the truth. 

The notion of making her own way back home under her own power, without relying on another's mercy, or inexplicable technology, was a surprisingly enticing one. Mipha would admit that there was a definite joy at the prospect of exercising her independence, and finding her own way back to wherever she supposedly belonged.

Perhaps, she considered with an air of arid humour, it would only be poetic that she would be reborn by navigating the River of the Dead? That a name so maudlin, and an environment so bitter, would be the catalyst for such an action was nothing less than supremely ironic. 

Still, she knew that she should not dawdle; the warming effects granted to her by her meal would not last indefinitely, and water as cold as this was not to be trifled with lightly.

After a moment of consideration, Mipha mustered her resolve, and came to a decision.

She took a deep breath, and dived into the river with a splash.

Instantly, she was surrounded by freezing water, sucking what little remaining warmth she possessed away. The transition was an utter shock to her; one she had been preparing for, yet the unyielding cold that now engulfed her still managed to catch her off-guard.

Under the surface, Mipha gasped, however her gills fulfilled their function, and she began to regain control of herself, filtering the icy water for the oxygen she needed to survive.

Truly, she was blessed to be in her element here. As she waited for the cold-water shock to abate, she spared a shivering, shuddering thought for if she had been an Hylian. Surely, in that case, the water would have already filled her lungs, and the cold seized her limbs, and she would have drowned.

Still, the water continued on, heedless to her struggle for control, dragging her ever closer to the breach.

Mipha noticed this, and wrested back control of herself. With great effort, she spread her limbs, fanned out her fins, and prepared herself to make the plunge.

As she went over the edge, her stomach sank within her as she made the transition to weightlessness that free-fall induced. However, her instincts guided her where her memories could not, and before long, she was descending the waterfall with the impossible, inimitable grace that only the Zora could ever possess, finally ridding herself of the shackles of The Great Plateau.

She plunged into the plunge-pool, and breathed an immediate sigh of relief when she found herself surrounded by warmer water, and a generally more temperate environment, coming as a blessed reprieve from the insidious chill of the Plateau she had just abandoned.

The water here was a far cry from being considered 'tropical', however the ambient warmth seeped into her frigid limbs, as she took a moment to bask in her freedom, and contemplate the benefits of continuing to indulge in it.

Mipha sank beneath the water, lazily swimming around, exploring this new area. As she did, she came to notice bridges suspended high above her, and she found herself idly wondering what manner of people would make this trek.

Brief musings aside, however, she found that whatever idle distraction she sought, her thoughts would always, inevitably, return to the subject of 'Wild'.

Mipha frowned, internally. When he had first informed her of his chosen pseudonym, she hadn't thought a great deal on it, beyond its obvious silliness. Originally, she had gone along with it, for lack of anything else to address him as. Now, however...

Now, she _knew_ that his true identity, his _real name_ was somehow significant to her. All of that time she had spent marvelling at how quickly and easily they had connected, all the while wondering if there may have been something deeper facilitating that link, had been validated, and proven correct beyond her wildest imaginings.

Mipha let out a beleaguered sigh, at her unintentional pun.

Nevertheless, the fact that _she knew that she knew_ who he truly was, underneath that damned hood, only made her confusion all the more frustrating. She was rather certain that, in her flashbacks, she had remembered his name, and the context behind her confoundingly complex emotions towards him. And yet, when she tried to grasp at those memories now, they continuously evaded her, slipping through her fingers, not unlike trying to grasp at the water that surrounded her.

The tighter she attempted to hold on to them, to force herself into remembering, there more cracks appeared for them to escape through, blurring away the details, leaving her in a state of perpetual frustration.

Exasperated, Mipha let out an impetuous shout, and splashed angrily at the water that seemed to mock her in its viscosity, before viciously reining in her rather indignant display, thankful that there had been no witnesses to her shameful behaviour.

Beyond all else, she was glad that Wild had not seen her acting in such a way, and that realisation only caused her ire to flare again, before she mercilessly clamped down on it.

If absolutely nothing else, she acknowledged, she and Wild had a connection. Furthermore, she was willing to wager that this connection was... more than significant to uncovering her identity. She could only guess as to his true significance to her, and yet, she knew that when she did find out, her current, vague sense of self would, once again, be irrevocably altered.

She supposed that she should be optimistic, that this alteration would be for her benefit. After all, he _had_ claimed that 'everything' he had done was to that end. Even if Mipha quite starkly disagreed with him.

Still...

She could not find it within herself to dismiss his beseeching, broken pleads as utter falsehoods. She had reflected on his impassioned defence during their argument, however now, having given herself the time to stew on the revelations, she could return to the argument with a more level head.

Indeed, as she had realised before, the full scope of his generosity, and his accommodation for her, was immense. He had done so many little, unnecessary things, all for the sake of providing her with some minor comfort, wherever the opportunity presented itself, even if it was to his own detriment, or difficulty, to do so. She had internally commented on his benevolence often, and she at least hoped that she'd adequately expressed her gratitude to him.

Of course, if his intents had _truly_ been nefarious, then she supposed that it would make sense for him to lavish her with comfort and gifts, in order to win her trust, so that he could exploit her more easily.

And yet, even now, having been faced with the full scope of his deception, Mipha could not find it within herself to accept such a possibility. She simply refused to accept that his pleading, his warmth, his kindness, and everything else, had merely been a front. She refused to believe that their connection was ingenuine, and, quite honestly, the _fierceness_ of her adherence to this belief was rather startling.

Perhaps that was foolish of her. But yet...

She did not believe so.

In spite of _everything,_ her instincts still demanded her to trust him, to return to him, to allow him the chance of an explanation, in the event that she _still_ could not understand the motivation for his deception. 

Perhaps, she huffed, his explanation would be enough to sway her opinion. Although, by that same token, perhaps it would not.

But, she mused, it _would_ undoubtedly give her the opportunity to understand _why_ he acted in such a baffling manner. He'd already dropped hints, that had not gone unnoticed; he'd claimed that he'd wanted to spare her from the trauma of her memories. He had _pleaded_ with her, so heart-wrenchingly impassioned, that he'd only wanted to protect her. So, in that case, when she considered just how traumatic, how painful, her recollections had been, she could at least realise that when he'd said what he was doing was 'for the best', he had honestly, truthfully meant it, from the bottom of his heart. At least, as far as his own perspective was concerned.

Mipha sighed again, having taken a lungful of air, just for the dramatic effect of blowing bubbles beneath the water's surface.

She gave one last glance to freedom; the waterway that continued into the distance, one final look towards the Slate's map, with so many locations to instantly travel to...

Then, she turned back towards the waterfall.

She was owed an explanation.

* * *

Link paced around the perimeter of the Plateau Tower's summit, for what must have been the _thousandth_ time.

After leaving Mipha to her freedom, he had made a bee-line for the Tower, in the admittedly unlikely event that she would decide to immediately teleport there.

He had promised to be there for her, should she wish to come back, and he _would_ make good on that.

Even so, as he berated himself once again for his lack of subtlety, despair again threatened to overtake him. He simply couldn't imagine why Mipha would, after being granted her freedom, _willingly_ choose to return to him. Him, her captor, her _tormentor._

She had so often expressed her wish for answers, and he had willfully, _knowingly_ kept them from her. All because of his _Hylia-fucking-damned arrogance._ Because he _knew_ what was best for her, and wasn't about to let anyone else tell him otherwise.

After all, he scoffed, flagellating himself relentlessly, he _loved_ her. He knew her better than anyone else had. So, therefore, _of course_ he knew best.

Gods above, he was such a _fucking_ moron.

And now, he had certainly driven her away, into the wilds he had sought so, so hard to protect her from.

He would be willing to bet that the five Bokoblins they had encountered in the last two days were the last monsters left on the entire Plateau, after his painstaking attempts to purge them. That would be about par for the course, considering his own awful fortunes. 

He cursed them again. He cursed the monsters that were such a persistent, sickening blight on the earth, that even his most furious attempts of genocide had left a few stragglers that had evaded his attention long enough to cause Mipha harm. He cursed them for causing the situation that had lead to the premature revelation of his deception. He had been hoping to reveal himself on his own terms, when he judged that Mipha would be ready to learn of him, of their connection, of her past...

And yet, events had unfolded in such a way as to paint him in the most suspicious, knavish manner possible, that it would undoubtedly cause Mipha to flee far away from his supposed malevolent influence.

To flee to where other, more dangerous monsters and threats lay waiting. Ones which Mipha was not yet prepared to face.

If Mipha were to leave him, and not arrive in Zora's Domain, Link would _never_ forgive himself.

He already knew that he would scour all of Hyrule until he found her, and yet the possibility of coming across her decayed, mutilated corpse was...

 _Unbearable._ He did not even want to _imagine_ such a grisly scene.

Furthermore, it would come with the devastating, soul-crushing knowledge that he would be unable to resurrect her a second time...

No. He wouldn't dwell on such events. He _couldn't._ He should give Mipha far more credit for her hard-earned skill, and self-preservation instincts.

In all likelihood, she would, through whatever means she chose, arrive safely in Zora's Domain, and then, perhaps, he could present not only her with a long-overdue explanation, but her undoubtedly shocked family too.

Well, Link huffed. If _absolutely nothing else,_ Sidon and Dorephan's reaction to their long-lost Mipha just _walking_ into the throne room after so long would be...

Highly amusing, he supposed, with a grin.

A grin that crumbled away from his face, as he was hit by yet another hunger pang.

He hadn't delayed to gather any supplies for himself, however nor did he lament this loss. With how unbearably nauseated he was, any attempt to ingest food would likely end with him regurgitating it, as anxiety rocked his gut once more. Link winced, and granted himself the small mercy of sitting down, still facing the platform where Mipha could materialise at any moment.

He _couldn't_ give up hope. He had promised to wait until sunrise, so until sunrise he would wait.

Even if it _was_ really, _really_ boring. 

Despite that, the anticipation he felt for an event that had no guarantee would even come to pass was unbearable. He didn't dare to wonder how the Champions must have dealt with it.

If the hunger pangs didn't kill him, then the anticipation just might, he thought with a final sigh, as he closed his eyes, granting his abused retina some small relief, if only for the time being.

* * *

Mipha resurfaced with a splash, a Hyrule bass snagged in her claws.

After scaling the waterfall, she had made haste back towards the lower areas of the Plateau, the chill of the tundra on the verge of becoming hazardous.

Almost by instinct, she had found herself returning to the cavern from which she'd first emerged, then later to the pond where she had caught her first fish since her revival.

She had become aware of the fact that the Slate's inventory was much, _much_ larger than she had previously noticed. She attributed that as another effect to Wild 'unlocking' the Slate for her, before his departure.

She had found all kinds of ingredients, ready cooked meals, and even potions with a full plethora of effects, just waiting to be materialised from the Slate's storage.

Still, in spite of the easy meal offered to her, one final gift in a very, _very_ long list, Mipha had refused it, instead deigning to provide for herself.

The taste of the bass she had caught, whilst nowhere near as flavoursome as the salmon that Wild had acquired for her (more of which tempted her in the Slate), was far sweeter for the feeling of self-sufficiency that empowered her, restoring the strength that had been sapped by the frigid waters she'd so recently escaped.

It was then that Mipha realised that she had spent _hours,_ between her jaunt down the waterfall and back, and her general activity since then. She cast her gaze towards the Tower, which stood as silently as always, its stonework glowing almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

She knew that Wild was up there, and he was waiting for her.

More than that, however, she knew that atop that tower lay the answers she was seeking.

A feeling of apprehension washed over her, and Mipha let out a shudder; her tail trembled behind her, as an unease settled in her stomach. The Tower was intimidating in its stature, and its silence, seeming almost as if to highlight and emphasise the importance of what lay ahead.

With a sigh, raising a hand to her chest to compose herself, she settled in her resolve, and soothed her nerves. She knew that this meeting would be of immeasurable importance to her, and yet, apprehension aside, she knew that it would be _necessary_ for her, to find the answers which she had sought so fervently.

Gripping her trident for security, Mipha began a steady, confident walk towards the Tower, her graceful gait not betraying even a _hint_ of the tension that strained at the muscles within her.

* * *

By the time Mipha arrived at the base of the Tower, evening had finally settled over the Plateau. The sky had transformed into a radiant amber, with hues of mauve and purple shading the sky to the east. The Plateau Tower itself was unaffected, its stalwart impression perhaps more comfortable in the eerie stillness of the pre-twilight.

She had kept her eyes towards the summit as she approached. It hadn't been difficult to spot the familiar cloaked figure at the top. Mipha assumed that he would have seen her coming long, long before she spotted him, however his attempts to make himself visually obvious to her were...

Mipha thought for a moment, then finally settled on 'endearing'.

She had not missed how her inner feelings had left her overjoyed to simply see him again. And, if his... _enthusiasm_ was indication, she mused, he certainly felt the same way.

Mipha took a great deal of pleasure in the fact that their responses affirmed the connection that she had been so desperate to be proven valid.

Once she had come to a complete stop, Link called out to her from above:

''Hello there, my dear!'' Mipha could easily discern not only his joy, but his genuine _relief_ at her presence. Although, the tremor in his voice indicated that, as overjoyed as he was, he was in no small part surprised at her decision. Perhaps, Mipha considered, he hadn't been expecting to see her return. That caused her to let out a dejected sigh.

Sadly, she could understand why her reaction on the mountain might have implied as such.

Still, she knew that, deep inside, there would _always_ be something, some latent instinct, that _compelled_ her to return to him. Perhaps, for his peace of mind, she should inform him of that...

''Why don't you climb up?'' He asked, cutting through her train of thought.  
''It's a wonderful view from the top.''

And, Mipha considered, it made for quite the dramatic backdrop for what would undoubtedly be an important conversation.

Of all of the things that continued to surprise her about Wild, his casual flair for the dramatic was no longer one.

Sighing absently, Mipha supposed that she could indulge him this small boon, and began to climb without expressing her exasperation. The tower seemed to be constructed with rungs built into its main body, and frequent rest stops for her to regain her footing. Before long, she found herself at the summit, having experienced minimal difficulty, despite her Zora biology.

When she pulled herself onto the uppermost platform, she did not protest Link moving over to assist her up. However, chivalry aside, she had no intentions to allow him to escape without providing her a complete explanation for 'everything', as he had previously promised.

As she stood up to face him, they both paused, neither really knowing how to initiate their discussion, frozen in the briefest of moments.

Link broke his silence, and his gaze, first, as he looked towards the floor, sheepishly.

''Thank you for coming back.'' He said, softly. Mipha's breathing almost hitched at the subtle weight of his words.

''Of course,'' She responded, equally measured in her tone.  
''You deserved the opportunity to explain yourself.''

She watched silently as he moved a hand to his face, cringing in contrition, before he looked back to her.

''Are you doing alright?'' Link asked, before following up. ''Have you eaten?''

Mipha let out a resigned sigh, at his overbearing concern, but noticed how even this minor expression of her displeasure caused him to wilt, and she immediately exercised greater control over herself.

''I am mostly well.'' She stated bluntly, however she deliberately kept the edge of her words softened, to not cause him more distress.

Still, despite Link's attempts to break the ice, this cursed awkwardness reigned over them. Mipha's fins were performing their usual, discomfited routine, and she noticed that Link seemed to be swaying slightly, almost hopping from foot to foot; a nervous tick of his own preventing him from staying still.

''Did you visit the final Shrine?'' Link asked again, desperately seeking any kind of entrée.

Mipha shook her head. ''The prospect of returning to the depths of another Shrine was even more off-putting than the prospect of teleporting to access it.'' 

Link sagged in relief at her words. Despite his efforts, there had been a few hazards in the Stasis Shrine that he had not been able to remove. Of course, he probably should have more faith in Mipha's general ability and intelligence, however his admittedly irrational worries were not so easily appeased, nor ignored.

Finally, however, it seemed that Mipha had overcome the social shackles restraining her, and sought to initiate a conversation of her own, much to Link's substantial relief.

''Before we begin,'' she began, somewhat hesitantly, gauging his reaction. ''I would first request something from you.''

Upon seeing Link's cooperative, encouraging gestures, she continued on, relieved, but not surprised, by his willingness to accommodate her.

''I have thought a great deal about your actions, and, in doing so, I have come to realise that you were being honest when you told me that you were acting in my best interests. At least, insofar as you believed.'' she had been eyeing him cautiously whilst she spoke, and was quite amused to see the relief plain in his body language. Still, her empathy aside, she was not about to let that distract her.  
''What I do not understand is _why_ you believed such... _perplexing_ behaviour to be in my interest.''

Link sighed. Truthfully, he'd been expecting this question, and had prepared for it long in advance. Long before Mipha had first awoken, even. Nevertheless, he supposed that he should take great joy in the fact that Mipha had at least attempted to understand his perspective.

''You surely remember when I told you that I have also experienced what you are currently experiencing?'' His question was rhetorical, and he did not wait for her answer before continuing, abashed for recalling his lack of composure on the cliff-side.  
''When I awoke, I did not have anybody to rely upon. In fact, I was almost alone... Well, I suppose that's not _quite_ true, and I recognise that they did all they were capable of in order to assist me, but yet... it was not what I had _needed._ ''

He winced, then sent an apology towards the spirit of King Rhoam. It was only in hindsight that he realised just how much the late King had assisted him, in so many subtle ways. It would not be fair for him to sound so ungrateful.

''I had _hoped..._ '' Link continued, wearily, ''To provide you with a companion, with safety and security, until you were ready to once again stand unsupported. I apologise for my deception, and for the distress I have inadvertently caused with it...'' he tailed off, and remained silent now.

Mipha contemplated his words carefully. Indeed, when he had mentioned the prospect of having to do all she did, her desperate desire to find herself, let alone _survive,_ all by herself had managed to elicit a horrified shudder from her. Even so, there was still one burning question about his actions that still baffled her.

''The reason I did not reveal our past connection immediately was twofold.'' Link said, and Mipha could only wonder just how close they had _truly_ been, for him to be capable of reading her mind so easily.  
''Firstly, as I said, I did not want to risk harming you by causing memories to resurface prematurely. I still recall waking as an amnesiac, and just how utterly overwhelming my first memories were...'' He glanced away from her again, self-consciously.  
''I wouldn't have wanted to subject you to that too early. The results could have been... bad.'' He finished lamely, although his words had already made their desired impact.  
''The second reason was perhaps more speculative, than anything:  
I did not wish to inform you of our connection, and have that colour or cloud all of your impressions and interactions with me.''

Mipha wondered if he was aware of the irony in that statement. Yet, despite that, she could concede that this was a valid concern, and it seemed to fit into the greater framework that everything he had done had been for her benefit, even to the point where it may have injured him to do so.

Mipha did not want to imagine being forced to pretend that someone this significant, this important to her, was nothing more than a stranger. She supposed that she could admire the mental fortitude that sacrifice would demand, and, perhaps, be grateful for at least giving her the chance to rediscover her own identity, without it being influenced by the interpretation of another, no matter how close to her that person was.

Whilst his explanation, and apology, had gone to great lengths to soothe her ire, and to resolve her confusion, Mipha still knew that this did not make up for all of the angst, and doubt, and suffering that she had endured, and, from Link's shameful posture, she realised that he was aware of this fact as well.

But, it did go a very, _very_ long way, she thought, giving him a shy, graceful smile, causing him to perk up slightly.

''In that case...'' Mipha began, fixated on him, ''I believe that I am ready to hear the truth.''

Link shot up, invigorated by her comment, although he caught his anticipation before it could become too apparent, always minding his concern for her well-being. He cleared his throat to prepare himself for a monologue.

''Of course. Though, before we begin, I must ask once again if you are _truly_ ready. What I say is going to be... _heavy._ And it will fundamentally alter your world view, and sense of self.''

Mipha sighed, once again endeared by his concern for her, although she was more noticeably frustrated by his _constant_ worrying, and lack of faith in her ability to comprehend that for herself. She had come here knowing full well that his revelations would be as significant as he intimated, and she had accepted that long, long before.

Still, none of this frustration made it beyond her narrowed eyes, as she replied calmly:  
''I am.'' She was pleased by just how resolute her voice was, in spite of the tension and anxiety that threatened to betray her.

''Oh. Good...'' Link stuttered. ''Um... where to begin...?'' he asked himself, hesitantly.

''Wherever you deem most suitable.'' Mipha responded, archly.

Link caught himself then, and chuckled wetly, before dislodging a lump in his throat. He sent a rueful glance back towards Mipha, and smiled wryly.

''Aye. That's fair.'' he smirked, then took a deep breath.

* * *

'' _Slightly more than one hundred years ago, this kingdom became aware of a looming threat; one that threatened to wipe out every man, woman, child, and beast that inhabited these lands, and reduce its civilisation to rubble and ruins._

_Ancient Legends told of a Calamity; an entity of unfathomable power, only matched by its endless appetite for destruction and death. All of the warnings and indications revealed that this entity was due to be resurrected imminently._

_In order to avert this Calamity, the Princess of Hyrule was tasked with unlocking her hereditary sealing power, unique to her bloodline, as descendants of the Goddess Hylia. Furthermore, each race inhabiting Hyrule nominated one of their own, their greatest warrior, to become a Champion, to lead the fight against the darkness that approached._

_The four Champions were each given control of a Divine Beast; an enormous construct, and weapon of war, that had been uniquely created to oppose the Calamity, by the Ancient Sheikah of many millennia ago._

_The Champion of the Hylians, the knight who wielded the Sword that Seals the Darkness, remained by the Hylian Princess' side; in order to protect her, until she awakened her power, and to confront the Calamity directly._

_However..._

_Despite the Princess' best efforts, she was unable to awaken her power in time._

_The Calamity, left unchecked, ran rampant over these lands, subverting and controlling the very weapons that had been designed to oppose it. It sent shards of itself to each Divine Beast, killing their pilots, the Champions, and slaughtering the vast majority of Hyrule's inhabitants within hours of arising._

_Ultimately, the knight, who was still defending the princess from unrelenting waves of the Calamity's forces, was overwhelmed._

_He lived only just long enough to witness the Princess access her divine powers, before perishing._

_The Princess then ordered the knight to be placed in the Shrine of Resurrection, and she went to confront the Calamity directly; to stall it for long enough for the knight to reawaken, and rescue her._

_After a century of slumber, the knight awakened without memory, lacking much of his strength._

_Over the next months, the knight travelled around Hyrule. He journeyed to each Divine Beast, and reclaimed it from the Calamity's Blights. In doing so, he met with the spirits of the Champions, who had remained trapped there after their fall._

_With the aid of the Champions, and the hope of what little remained of Hyrule behind him, he reclaimed his Sword, and encountered the Calamity in a final, climactic battle, in the ruins of Hyrule Castle._

_After a mighty barrage from the Divine Beasts, he struck the Calamity down. The Princess re-emerged, and, using her divine power, was successful in sealing the Calamity away._

_And yet..._

_Despite this victory, and with his divine duty finally completed, the knight was unsatisfied, having lost so much along the course of his journey, that he saw nothing more for himself in the ruins of the land that he'd failed to protect._

_In his despair, he dedicated himself to an impossible task; to resurrect the Champions, his comrades, his friends, as he himself had been resurrected..._

The fact that you are standing here now, Mipha, means that he was successful.'' Link finished, with a sigh.

He'd kept half of an eye on her, and her reaction, to his soliloquy. Unfortunately for him, Mipha was practising her most measured, impenetrable gaze, and he could glean nothing from her expression. He did not know if her silence meant that what he was saying was sinking in, or if it was utterly meaningless to her.

He had to admit, recalling his own Legend in such a neutral, passive, way, was rather jarring. He recount had mentioned little to nothing of his struggle, physical and mental, his anguish, nor his burning, _blackened_ vengeance, much less the difficulty and strife that had since ruptured his and Zelda's relationship...

It was all so... clinical. So disconnected from the world still reeling from the events of the same story he had recounted so dispassionately.

He decided that he really disliked it.

Mipha was still yet to respond, and so Link took it upon himself to state the obvious, in the unlikely event that Mipha had not discerned it for herself.

''You were the Zora Champion in that story.'' He sighed.  
''You are the Champion, Crown Princess, Lady Mipha of Zora's Domain. And you have been dead for more than one hundred years, killed by the Calamity, before I resurrected you. And, as you might have guessed...'' he chuckled, weakly, a humourless, pitiful sound.  
''I was the knight, the Hylian Champion, who wielded the Sword that Seals the Darkness.''

He retreated then, to give her space whilst she processed that revelation, biting his tongue for his desire to continue, to ask how she had received these... momentous revelations.

Instead of replying, Mipha moved to follow him, slowly raising her hand to the hood that still rested, obscuring his face. 

She was pleased when he did not flee like a wounded animal from her this time, however that cheer vanished when he caught her hand in his own. Despite his gentle, forceless grip, it still caused her hand to halt. She sent an almost scathing look towards him.

''We both know that I will almost certainly recognise you, now.'' she commented. Indeed, she was rather sick to her gills with his pointless prevarication.

She was moderately surprised when Link let out a weak, dejected sigh; his entire form slumping before her.

''That's exactly what I've been afraid of.'' he whispered, ominously. Yet, he seemed to realise that, despite his own wishes, he could not delay this moment any longer, and, with an apprehensive sigh, released his grip on her wrist.

Now unimpeded, Mipha's hand continued towards his hood so painfully slowly, the reverence of the moment, and the face she knew she would recognise underneath, forced her to take her time, lest the moment be shattered.

She gripped the fabric of his hood, and she heard his breath catch. Still, she paused for a moment, willing her arm to cease trembling, before she gathered her courage, and pulled his hood back with a flourish.

The moment she laid eyes upon his full face, it was almost as if she had been shocked by a bolt of lightning. The sight of him burned itself into her mind, and with it, all of the vagueness of her memories involving him were dispelled like a gale removing the fog, leaving only razor-sharp clarity:

_The young child she had cared for, when no one else would. The way his adorable attitude had endeared him her._

_The boy she had so often scolded for his irreverence towards danger. The way she had healed him, her own heart broken by his suffering._

_The boy that had grown up so quickly, until he had left, to undertake training to become a knight. The way she had missed him, and lamented him leaving what seemed like far, far too soon._

_The young man that had returned, burdened by his newfound duty. The way she had been so sorrowful to witness his withdrawal._

_The young man she had watched steadily grow quieter, as his duty stifled him further. And yet, the way that their mutual affection and warmth had never dissipated, even despite that._

_The man that had come to rival, and even exceed her, in the capacity of a warrior. The way she had admired, and revered, him for his prodigal progression._

_The man who had stolen her heart. The way she had pined for him endlessly, even beset by doubts as to the true nature of his feelings for her._

_...the man she had left behind, before they had died what may have been a thousand miles apart. The way she had anguished for never having told him how she felt._

_The man who returned for her, after a century of suffering. The relief of seeing him again after so, so long with only the monster that had killed her, and her failure, for company._

_The man who had killed himself repeatedly, only for the sake of spending another fleeting moment in her presence. The way her heart had shattered upon witnessing his despair._

_The man who had confessed his eternal love for her. The way her joy had been tinted with the soul-crushing grief and regret of knowing that she could never be with him again._

_The man who now stood before her. The way he had achieved the impossible, only for the sake of reuniting with her._

'' _Link._ '' Mipha breathed, a partial sob wrenched from her chest, that was only matched by his own, when he realised that she had recognised him.

Mipha studied his face again, drinking in the details that she could not _fathom_ that she had ever forgotten. However, what she saw surprised her, and caused a bubbling fear to rise in her stomach.

To put it politely, he looked _haggard._ The more Mipha looked upon him, the more details she noticed that caused her visceral distress to only increase:

Link's hair was unkempt, having lost much of its golden lustre, quite a few silver strands interspaced between the sea of frayed yellow. Time had not been kind to him, making stress lines and wrinkles more pronounced, no doubt exacerbated by the intolerable amount of grief he had been forced to endure. His eyes, still exhausted and drooping from having cried so many bitter, lonely tears...

And speaking of his eyes, looking into them now was enough to make Mipha want to cry.

The heterochromia she had previously been so enchanted by rather swiftly lost its charm, when she realised that it was not the product of some strange genetic quirk, but instead the frayed, lancing scar that trailed down the left side of his face, onto his neck, before disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. The scar was faded, indicating its age, yet Mipha could not help but wince as she noticed numerous minor offshoots, branching out from the main wound.

She raised a cautious hand to his left cheek, ignoring the bristles of his scruffy, patchy facial hair on her palm, as she traced the line of the wound with a most delicate, gentle claw.

And yet... despite all of the above details that marred his wonderful, perfect face, in Mipha's honest, genuine opinion, he had _never_ looked more beautiful.

''Oh Link...'' she lamented, wiping away a tear that had fallen from his unseeing eye with her thumb. ''What _has_ become of you?'' she did not miss his keening breath, as he turned his mouth to place a gentle kiss on the hand that framed his face, nor how the action sent a bolt of warmth into her core.

After a long moment of basking in the sensation of her hand on his cheek, Link responded in a fractured, broken voice:

''A price I would willingly pay again, if it meant getting you back.''

Mipha sighed at his utterly predictable, self-harming resolve, even through the sentiment that he had, and would continue to, harm himself for her sake which sickened her to the point that she feared she might vomit from grief.

And yet, joy _soared_ in her breast, for having the opportunity to hold him close once again, the way that she had _dreamed_ of being able to do so many, woeful times, during her century of torment. Despite the pain, anguish and disfigurement he had suffered, despite all of the misunderstandings between them that had been the cause of such unnecessary strife...

She would admit that there was something utterly, _hopelessly_ romantic, about their current situation.

She raised her other hand to his chest, fisting it into the clothing that swaddled him, as her breathing hitched again, and she placed her palm over his damaged eye. A blue glow emanated from her palm for a few seconds, and when she removed it, much of the milky whiteness that had obscured his left eye had vanished.

Link blinked a few times, bewildered, before fixing his gaze back upon Mipha's own eyes.

''I shouldn't be so surprised by that anymore...'' he huffed, humorously, ''And yet, I don't think I will ever _not_ be.'' Mipha snorted in agreement. Indeed, her Grace had healed him of far, far worse than that, much to both her pride, and sorrow.

However, Mipha knew that despite his recklessness, and even despite his tendency to let himself be injured for her sake, she would _always_ be there to heal him. Such was the promise she had made to him, and the promise that she would fulfill.

Even if she was so incredibly tempted to just grab him, and attempt to shake some sense into him, as futile as such an act might be...

Unfortunately, even with the unbridled joy of their reunion, the hurt she had experienced due to his manipulations did not just fall to the wayside. Now, with the benefit of hindsight giving context and an explanation to his actions, Mipha could only find herself coming to a single, inevitable conclusion.

She grabbed both of his shoulders, and _yanked_ Link forwards.

''You _stupid.... insufferable... contemptuous..._ '' Her voice raised in pitch until she was sobbing between every word. Link stood, utterly frozen in her grasp, unwilling to move lest he provoke her ire further.  
'' _...Foolish... **fucking imbecile** of a man._'' Mipha finally finished, releasing his chest with a shout. And yet, she did not push him away. Instead, she drew him close, unwilling to let him go again.

Of course, Mipha's mixed messages were rather baffling to Link. From her tone, he would have thought that she wanted him gone from her sight, and yet her arms denied him any chance of escape. In all of his memories, he did not think that he had _ever_ heard Mipha swear; not knowing how exactly to proceed, he simply continued to stand in dumbfounded silence...

'' _Why?!_ '' Mipha sobbed into his shirt. Into that single word, she managed to embed all of her confusion, her grief, her love, her anger, her sorrow and, most importantly, her forgiveness, for _everything_ he had done: His manipulation, his abuse of her Grace, the injuries he had sustained as the price for her return, and more.

Link seemed to understand this, for when Mipha drew back, she could see hundreds of thoughts flashing behind his eyes, easier to read than words on a page, but fleeting, none of them remaining for long enough for her to absorb, before the next took its place:

' _Because I love you more than anything, because I couldn't bear to live in a world without you, because Sidon needs his sister, because your father misses you, because Hyrule would benefit from your presence..._ '

Finally, the thoughts slowed down, and Link seemed to fall silent, as he came to a single answer that he seemed content with:

''Because I made you a promise.'' He said, simply, and Mipha found her breath stolen away by the sincerity of his words.

All she could do, despite gaping uselessly at him, was simply draw him close to her again, hoping that her actions would be capable of expressing what her words simply could not.

After a long, long moment, where she had been quite comfortable buried in his arms, Mipha's gentle swaying was interrupted, as Link's voice cut through the silence of the evening once more:

''Mipha, um...'' and he seemed nervous. Hesitant, even. Traits that she would consider rather contrary to his normal disposition.

She turned her eyes away from the golden landscape before her, to rest her eyes upon his own once more, imploring him to continue, imbuing her gaze with the love and forgiveness that she would _always_ grace him with...

''How much do you _truly_ remember?'' He asked. ''About me.'' In the way he shifted uncomfortably, Mipha realised that he could be referring to _several_ topics. From their tragic, unresolved romance, to the horror and anguish she had suffered due to his brutal self-abuse, to even things as benign as their relatively peaceful childhood.

' _Oh._ ' Mipha considered his words for just a fraction of a moment, considering the wonderful, foolish man waiting so apprehensively for her response, noting how he almost seemed to glow in the evening light, before her instincts took over.

Perhaps, this fated moment should have been more carefully planned, and executed. Goodness knows if Mipha could have chosen the exact scenario and surroundings for her confession, they would undoubtedly be far different to this. And yet she cared not, far too concerned with the fact that she had been offered this second chance, this opportunity to rectify her most lamented regrets.

And she was not about to endure them for a _moment_ longer.

She grabbed his face with both of her hands, and, without a hint of hesitation, kissed him as hard as she could. The thudding of her heart, pounding relentlessly in her ears deafened her to all but the response of the man she had adored for so long.

For a moment, Link stood paralysed, astonished by her boldness, before his own instincts took hold. Immediately thereafter, his arms tightened around her, as he returned her kiss with fervour and a _passion_ that was so blissfully overwhelming that Mipha began to swoon. Link pressed in further, bending her backwards, as one of his hands moved to cradle her tail, the other slinking down to the small of her back. Not to be outdone, Mipha refused to yield, tangling one of her hands in his messy mop of hair as the other pulled him in closer, unwilling to be more than millimetres apart.

Neither knew which had done it first, but both of them had opened their mouths, allowing their tongues to meet, and when Link ran his tongue over Mipha's sharp fangs, she shuddered, emitting the most adoring sigh, that was matched by Link's hungry, _desperate_ growl.

Link's emotions were explosive, likely from being repressed for so long, that now he was allowed to release them, to pour them onto the target of his affections, they began to burn inside her, the feelings she had always held for him being ignited by the intensity of their embrace, blazing in a brilliant crescendo.

Although, as their embrace continued, Mipha realised that the burning in her chest was not solely the fault of her all-consuming arousal, but rather a lack of oxygen.

Regretfully, she pulled away, and the moment she separated, she lamented the loss of his mouth on hers. However, she noted in between heaving breaths, Link himself was also rather winded by the duration of their kiss. A fact that caused Mipha no small amount of pride to realise, given her considerably lower lung-capacity. Still, they refused to part by anything more than the absolute minimum distance required, both so absorbed in the other, that the entire rest of the world may as well have fallen away. This led to them breathing in each other's air, causing a heady, numb, pleasant fog to overtake Mipha's mind, as she basked in the warmth of his breath.

She found that she did not mind feeling like that, provided that the cause was Link kissing her senseless.

After a moment, her eyes moved to Link, as he stared at her somewhat blankly, their arms still locked in place, their roaming hands still exploring each other's bodies, albeit at a more sedate pace. Her hands had finally come to rest, looped around his neck, and his had found their way to her waist, leisurely stroking over the caudal fins on her hips, causing a delicious shudder to reverberate through her.

Suddenly, Mipha realised that she had technically not answered his question. She sought to remedy that immediately, leaning up to one of his ears, wearing a sultry, lidded gaze:

''Enough to know that _that,_ '' she panted, breathlessly, her eyes locked onto his own, ''Was one hundred years overdue.''

She only waited long enough for the tears to begin to prick at Link's eyes once more, before kissing him again, and stealing all of his worries away, and allowing him to steal hers in return.

* * *

_It was a beautifully calm day on the East Reservoir Lake. Mipha had been ecstatic at the chance to have Link all to herself for the afternoon, having taken him to Vah Ruta ostensibly for the purpose of fostering bonds between the Champions._

_Of course, Link and her already had quite the close relationship. Yet still, she was glad for his company, what with it being such a rare commodity in recent times. She also wouldn't mind if either of them took this opportunity to make their relationship even closer..._

_They had been talking for a while, or, rather, she had been talking to him. He'd become so terribly quiet that even she was not always aware of what he was thinking. But still, she did not truly mind, happy as she was to bask in his presence, and reminisce of the times when they did so as children._

_She had been trying very hard to keep her feelings contained. Not only her feelings for him, but her worries about the oncoming storm that they would both have to weather. Truthfully, she harboured many doubts about their chances of survival. And yet, she could not afford to dwell on them, much less alert Link of her struggles. Nayru knows that he didn't need any more distractions to deal with..._

_So, she had instead affirmed her promise; that she would **always** heal him. Indeed, it was the least she could do for him. She just hoped that he had understood the true depths of the devotion that she had embedded in that pledge to him..._

_As they sat together, on Ruta's trunk, and she'd healed that minor scrape on his arm, that most would deem a frivolous waste of her powers, she'd continued to talk, taking great joy in their shared peace and contentment._

_''Once all this is over,'' she continued looking away for fear of her nerves overtaking her. ''Maybe things can go back to how they used to be when we were young.''_

_She turned to face him once more, mustering her courage._

_''You know... Perhaps we could spend some time together?'' She watched him, studying him for any hint of response, either confirmation or rejection, as much as the latter would undoubtedly shatter her._

_She tried to keep her thoughts from wandering to the set of armour that was so nearly completed._

_When Link's mouth twitched, Mipha did well to suppress her exclamation of joy; he spoke so rarely nowadays, even to her, that hearing his voice, even if ever so briefly, was a gift that she cherished._

_''I'd like that very much.'' he whispered, somewhat hoarsely, matching her smile with his own._

_''Well,'' she said, breathless from her excitement, ''It's a promise then?''_

_When Link's smile deepened, and he nodded in affirmation, Mipha thought that her heart might swell until it burst._

* * *

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> It's actually quite humbling to think that this will be the last time I say this on this story, but...
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments below.
> 
> Oh, and thanks to Duke Serkol, for the idea of Link having a beard to help mask his identity. I did not employ this concept in the exact way they had outlined, but it did inspire me into an interesting alternative, so thanks again.
> 
> I hope to see you all again, for the sequel. ;)


End file.
